About Three Authors

by Patti Roberts

  “Actually, you look like you should go back to bed.”

  The kitchen was a potpourri of fresh baked bread, rosemary, basil, tea, coffee, and sunshine.

  Mallory put her mug down, walked to the oven, opened the door and peered inside. The mouth-watering scent of fresh bread wafted from the oven. On the centre rack, a loaf of bread was rising beautifully, the craggy crust a light golden colour. “Almost done,” she said with a pleasing smile as she closed the oven door.

  Becky failed in stifling a yawn. “I feel like I tossed and turned all night. It’s like someone threw a bucket of sand in my eyes. Maybe I should have had a glass of wine last night. It might have helped put me to sleep. Switched my brain off…”

  The truth was she really had tossed and turned all night, her head swimming with thoughts about Roger, Mandy… And worse still, if she was pregnant, and if she was, should she keep it, terminate it, give it up for adoption? Was her throwing up in the car motion sickness or morning sickness? Did morning sickness only happen in the mornings, or could it strike at any time? She’d spent half the night googling morning sickness and the different stages of foetuses, trying to imagine how big the baby would be, if, in fact, she was pregnant. She’d snapped her laptop closed. “Not pregnant, not pregnant, not pregnant,” she’d chanted, hugging a pillow and rocking back and forth in the centre of the bed.

  The stars had all but gone in the brightening light when Becky gave up on the idea of sleep. At daybreak, she’d gone out and sat on her little veranda surveying the dark body of water, and watching the sun come up slowly over the mist-covered tree-lined lake. Various types of birds from small to large captured her attention as they winged their way noisily from one tree branch to another. And just like that, the new day had begun. After a while, she went back and lay down, sleeping fitfully for an extra two hours.

  Mallory leaned against the kitchen counter. “It’s jetlag by the sounds of it. A couple of days and your body should adjust, and you’ll be as right as rain.” She turned back to the kitchen counter and poured hot water into her coffee mug, then added a splash of milk. “Can’t start the day without a coffee,” she said.

  Becky sipped her tea. “Yes, jetlag… You’re probably right. She sipped her tea again. “The bread in the oven smells delightful, by the way. My mouth is actually watering just thinking about it.” Surely she couldn’t be pregnant; apart from the lack of sleep, she actually felt okay.

  “It’s one of my mother’s rosemary bread recipes. God rest her soul,” Mallory said, a smile brightening her face. “It’s good, but I never have been able to replicate my mother’s rosemary bread recipe. I swear she added a little extra something that she never told anyone else about. That would be just like my mother.”

  “Well I look forward to tasting it. I can’t believe how hungry I am after all the food I ate yesterday. I’m going to go home fat.”

  Mallory laughed. “I don’t think you have to worry about that for quite some time.”

  Becky winced. Unless I’m pregnant, she said to herself. Maybe she should share her concerns. Maybe telling someone that she might be pregnant with her cheating, bastard boyfriend’s baby would help? “I think I-”

  “Please don’t say I told you so. I’ve just about got this headache at a medicated, tolerable level.” Elise slouched into the kitchen in her pyjamas and slippers.

  Mallory shook her head. “I told you not to open that fourth bottle.”

  Elise shot Mallory an I-told-you-not-to-say-that glare.

  “Coffee?” Mallory said smiling, pouring Elise a mug of steaming coffee. “But you have no one to blame-”

  “Yes, Mum… and I know I’ve got no one to blame but myself, but in my own defence, I didn’t drink all four bottles by myself, you know. Thank you,” Elise mumbled gratefully, accepting the offered mug of coffee. She pulled out a chair and sat down.

  “It’s because you’re the baby in the group. You don’t have the worldly experiences that Polly and I have when it comes to drinking.” Mallory winked at Becky. “Elise is the youngest. She’s just turned fifty-two on her last birthday,” Mallory explained while watching Elise nurse her head in her hands. “Becky isn’t feeling that great either. She didn’t sleep a wink.”

  Becky cringed at the word baby. “I think-”

  Elise waved a hand at Becky, silencing her. “That would be jetlag,” Elise said, then turning to cringe at the radio. “I feel like death warmed up.” She went back to nursing her head in her hands.

  “Yes. That is exactly what I said.” Mallory topped up her coffee with more hot water from the jug, then joined Elise and Becky around the breakfast bench.

  Becky looked sympathetically at Elise. “We’re both a couple of sad sacks then, aren’t we?” They nodded at each other like fallen comrades, then drowned their sorrows in their respective brews. Perhaps she would tell them later about the baby.

  The screen door opened, then slammed shut. All three women quickly turned their heads and looked up towards the sudden interruption. Polly was standing in the doorway in a pair of denim shorts, a damp t-shirt and jogging shoes, beads of sweat dotting her forehead, a basket of eggs in her hand.

  “How’s Joan?” Mallory asked. “Polly calls in to see Joan after her morning run,” Mallory explained for Becky’s benefit.

  “Joan’s fine. Says to say hello. Joan is also our regular source of local gossip. She’s the eyes and the ears of Lake Tinaroo, and of most of the Tablelands for that matter. If Joan Barnet didn’t know what was going on, it isn’t worth knowing. She had a real bee in her bonnet this morning, though. I never thought I was going to get out of there.”

  “Apparently,” Joan began, “Mrs. Seymour, that nasty little gold digger, up and packed her bags, just like that, and has taken off with some chap that she’d met on facebook, just days before Christmas, so she won’t be going to the grand opening on the weekend. Mr. Seymour, however, will still be going, if I have anything to say about it.”

  Joan had plenty to say about it.

  “I told the silly old bugga right from the get go, before he even married that woman. Barry, I said, I’ll tell you for free, you’re just plain asking for trouble if you marry that woman… Yes, I’m sure she is a good cook, and I know how lonely you get in that big house all by yourself, but, before you know it, you’ll be paying to have the whole flippin’ family sent out here… Mum, dad, brothers, sisters, cousins, the whole damn tribe… But did the silly old man listen to me? No. Well I told him he’s better off without her. Dodged a bullet, I said. Lucky she didn’t take the house and empty his bank accounts, too, while she was at it, and leave him with nothing except the shirt on his back, I said.”

  Joan handed a cup of tea to Polly and sat own across the table from her. “Anyway, I’ll take him over a nice lamb casserole this afternoon, and some Christmas pudding with brandy custard. That’ll cheer the old coot right up. Keep your man’s stomach full, and you’ll keep your man happy. That’s what my old Ma always used to say. And she was right.”

  Polly nodded agreeably while she sipped on her tea.

  Joan stirred in a teaspoon of sugar. “My dad was a happy man, right up to the day his old heart gave out, and he dropped dead in the backyard mowing the lawn. Loved mowing the lawn, my old dad. Out there every weekend. Loved his Victa lawn mower, too, almost as much as his Holden station sedan. Ninety-seven he was, died with a belly full of good, home cooked food, and a smile on his face. None of that Kentucky fried chicken stuff. We didn’t have any of that growing up. Nope. Good, home cooked meals on the table every night. Mum saw to that, and a good breakfast. Most important meal of the day, she’d always say, and she was right. Feed the brain, Joanie, she’d say… Anyway, I’m getting a bit off track. What was I talking about?”

  “Barry,” Polly said.

  “Oh yes, Barry. I might run the vacuum and mop over the place while I’m there… You can never keep your floors too clean. And with that old cattle dog of his traipsing in and out all day lon
g, covering the place in dog hair.”

  A while later, Joan picked up a cane basket filled with a dozen eggs and a homemade Christmas pudding wrapped in calico off the table and followed Polly to the door. “Merry Christmas, Polly,” Joan said, pecking her on the cheek. “Do pass on my Christmas greetings to Mallory and Elise. I’ll try to pop on over before the big event. Talk about some ideas I have for desserts.”

  “Will do,” Polly said. “And thank you for the eggs, as always.”

  Joan waved a hand. “Don’t give it a second thought, dear. A person can only eat so many eggs.”

  “So, who wants scrambled eggs for breakfast?” Polly asked setting the basket of eggs down on the kitchen bench. She lifted the homemade Christmas pudding out of the basket and put down next to the basket. She looked pointedly at Becky. “Best Christmas pudding you’ll ever taste.”

  Agreeable nods and “yes, please” for eggs for breakfast echoed around the kitchen.

  “Great, but not until I’ve had another cuppa. Top-up, Becky?” Polly asked, holding up the teapot.

  “Please,” Becky pleaded, standing up and walking over to the kitchen counter for a refill.

  “Becky, dear…” Elise began.

  Becky turned. “Yes,” she said, facing Elise and Mallory.

  Mallory and Elise looked at each other, then back at Becky’s perfectly shaped bottom.

  Elise nodded at Becky’s white skirt. “You appear to have your period,” Elise said softly.

  Becky put down her cup and began pulling and tugging at her skirt feverishly, until the back was facing the front, then let out a loud whoop of joy. “Woohoo!” Becky jumped up and down, fist punching the air above her head in joyous rapture, then broke out in song, singing along to Macklemore & Ryan Lewis on the radio, although clearly she didn’t know the correct words. “So we put our hands up, yes, yes, like the silly can’t hold us, like nothing can hold us… Yes, yes, YES!”

  All three women looked at each other in astonishment, then shrugged, stood up, and began dancing with Becky, pushing the air with their hands while wagging their bottoms at each other.

  Polly was the first to speak, albeit a little out of breath. “Well, singing and dancing is an unexpected reaction. I don’t think getting my period, not that I have had one in the last couple of years, ever had me jumping up and down for joy. But whatever works, I guess.” She bumped up against Elise with her bottom. “Remember the bump?” she asked, nearly knocking Elise off her feet.

  “Look out, Miley Cyrus,” Mallory added, slapping and wagging her bottom provocatively at Polly, and singing, “Who’s your daddy, who’s your daddy?”

  Polly laughed. “I don’t think Miley has anything to worry about. And you are so not my daddy.”

  Elise stopped dancing. “Not unless…” she began, a sombre frown stripping away her smile, “you thought you were pregnant?”

  “I’ll be back down in a sec,” Becky said breathlessly. “I just have to… Well, you know,” she said, rushing down the hall and up the flight of stairs like a child running to greet a long lost best friend. A little while later she returned with a glum look on her face. “I need tampons.”

  Polly, who was now sitting down and drinking her coffee, gulped a mouthful then snorted the warm liquid out of her nose. Elise, Polly and Mallory looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

  Becky looked on in silence. What on earth was so funny, she wondered.

  Mallory handed Polly a paper towel for her nose then grabbed a dishcloth and began cleaning up the coffee on the kitchen floor. “I should make you get down here and clean up this mess,” she mumbled.

  “Oh,” Elise groaned, catching her breath and holding her sides. “That little dancing performance certainly required muscles that have been lying dormant in this weary body for way too long.”

  Polly, who was now holding her head in her hands, caught her breath and said, “It’s an old story about the day we first met, years ago. We were all in our twenties at the time, and mighty sexy, too, I might add.”

  “Damn straight we were sexy,” Elise said, walking over to the kitchen counter and pulling open a cupboard door. “We keep a medicine chest here under the kitchen sink, and another one in the main bathroom, for emergencies.” She dragged out a red Tupperware container, and removed the lid. “Here,” she said, handing Becky a box of tampons, “These should see you through for the next couple of days.”

  “They will, thank you. I’ll replace them when I go to the store later today.” She turned and walked out of the kitchen. “At least now I know I don’t have to buy a pregnancy test,” she added from down the hallway, leaving the kitchen in a stunned silence.

  “Hence the happy dance, I suppose,” Mallory murmured after a long moment. She poured herself another mug of coffee. “Elise?”

  “Hmm?” Elise looked at Mallory vaguely, then noticed the jar of coffee Mallory held up in her hand. “Oh, yes please. Make it a strong one. I feel like I’ve just aged ten years.”

  Chapter 9

  How A Heart Breaks.

  BECKY JENSEN’S FACEBOOK STATUS: HAPPY DANCE!!!

  A breakfast of scrambled eggs, grilled tomatoes, bacon and rosemary bread - straight out of the oven - was served up on the long table under the pergola down by the lake. Monty sat nearby, patiently waiting for any leftovers that might come his way. The sparkling sun danced blindingly off the surface of the lake. A pair of pelicans with massive wingspans glided effortlessly overhead until they landed gracefully on the lake’s smooth surface. Ripples of water rushed towards the lake’s edge and lapped the sides of the small row boat tied up on the little jetty.

  In awe at her picture-perfect surroundings, Becky quickly retrieved a camera out of the small bag she had slung across her chest and took a photograph. “Uncle Steve would love this. It’s just so beautiful here,” she said, more to herself than to anyone else.

  Mallory beamed, her face lifted to the heavens, her hands on her waist. “I just love mornings. It is as though all of the earth’s energies are sizzling and crackling into position for the new day.” Becky looked at Mallory and envied her. Becky couldn’t remember the last time she had felt like that. Perhaps it was living at this place, this house, this lake. Maybe if she woke up here each day, she’d feel the way Mallory did each morning.

  Elise, who was still in her pyjamas, raised her eyebrows, as though seeing the beauty of the lake for the first time. “Yes. Beautiful.” She picked up a knife, sliced four thick slaps of the rosemary bread, then buttered herself a piece. “Mallory and I would love to go with you today, make a day of it, but there is still so much to do here for the grand opening on the weekend,” she explained, tossing the rind from her piece of bacon on the ground for Monty, who pounced on it immediately and swallowed it in one bite.

  Mallory did five squats, her arms held out in front of her. On the last one, she farted, then giggled. “Fibre,” she explained. “Gotta’ keep the old body limbered up,” she added, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

  Elise laughed. “Good for you, rocket woman. But I think it is going to take more than five squats.”

  “Limbered up for what? That is what I want to know,” Polly said, a bemused look on her face.

  Mallory held her head high in defiance. “That is for me to know and you to find out,” she said, punching the air with her fist.

  Elise shook her head. “You are one funny old broad.”

  “And that is exactly why you love me,” Mallory said.

  “Precisely,” Elise said. Her whole face lighted up with affection as she smiled at Mallory and patted her friend’s hand. “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

  “That makes two of us,” Polly added. “Now, if you really want to limber up, you should come jogging-”

  “No, thank you,” Mallory cut in.

  “I swear I’ll have you both jogging before next Charismas,” Polly warned.

  “Whatever,” Mallory said. “But back to Becky.” Mallory looked at Beck
y as though she were looking at her over a pair of spectacles. “Once the grand opening-slash-New Year’s Eve party is over, we’ll be all yours, dear.” Mallory slid a notepad she’d been studying over to Elise. The Lakeside Writers Retreat - grand opening, was scrawled across the top of the lined page. “These are a few of my ideas for the cocktail party,” she said. “What do you think, too much? Not enough?”

  Elise picked it up. “Oh, yes, the marquee is a must. Impossible to know what the weather is going to do this time of the year.” She continued to scan down the list of ideas. “A cake that looks like a stack of books, fabulous, I love it. Our books, of course?”

  “Of course,” Mallory answered, forking her egg onto a piece of toast, then taking a bite.

  “What time are you meeting with the caterers today?” Polly asked, leaning back in her chair with her legs stretched out in front of her, and sipping contently out of her mug of coffee. She had changed into a pair of denim knee-length shorts, runners, and a white linen button up shirt.

  Elise looked down at her watch. “In about an hour, so I’d better get a hurry on. There are still a few things that I have to check over before they get here. The events people that I’ve booked will be here this morning as well, to discuss what they can do, and for how much. At least we know the band is booked. Bands tend to get booked out fast for New Year events.”

  “It sounds like it is going to be a fabulous night, and a great way to see in the New Year,” Becky said, reaching down to toss Monty a piece of her bacon. “New Year’s Eve always used to fill me with such hope, you know. Like I was being given an opportunity to start afresh. Everything used to be as clear as a bell. I knew exactly where I was going… But now… My mother died just recently, you see.”

  Mallory gave Elise’s hand a little squeeze under the table.

  “We were sorry to hear that,” Polly said apologetically.