Jilted

by Rachael Johns

  Ellie’s mouth gaped. She couldn’t imagine Matilda settling for anything. ‘You didn’t love him?’

  ‘No, I certainly loved him.’ Matilda nodded insistently. ‘I loved him like a good friend, a family member, but not like you should love the one you spend the rest of your life with. I wasn’t on fire for him.’ She took a sip of hot chocolate. ‘Don’t look so surprised, lots of people marry for the wrong reasons. And most of us aren’t gutsy enough to run out on a wedding once the dress is bought and invitations are sent.’

  Ellie shut her mouth and ignored the reference to herself – she didn’t think leaving Flynn had been gutsy; it had been a coward’s way out. ‘So what happened? Where’s Dougal now? What happened to Tom?’

  Mat held up a hand. ‘One question at a time, girl.’ She took another chocolate and Ellie tried to control her impatience while Matilda ate it. ‘Okay, so three weeks before the wedding, Tom came back to Perth and begged me to break off my engagement to Dougal. He said he loved me with all his heart, always had, and couldn’t live without me.’

  ‘Aw.’ Ellie’s spine tingled at the romance of it.

  ‘His declaration made me miserable, shattered my heart into a zillion pieces. Dougal was a good man. If I left him, it would break his heart too. I couldn’t bear to do that. So, yes, I married him. I settled. Eventually, we found out that I couldn’t have children. And our marriage, built as it was on shaky foundations, crumbled. Our separation was a mutual decision, but by the time it was legal, Tom had married someone else.’

  ‘Oh, Mat.’ Ellie reached out a hand and squeezed her godmother’s, blinking to stop the tears. She knew all too well the double heartbreak Mat had been through. ‘Did you keep in contact with Tom?’

  Matilda shook her head. ‘Too painful. But we have friends in common. I hear about him. He had kids, made a good career as a geneticist and became a widower two years ago.’

  ‘His wife died?’ Ellie sounded happier than she probably should have.

  ‘Cancer.’

  Despite the tragedy of it, Ellie couldn’t help feeling a little bit excited for Mat. She imagined the lovebirds getting back in touch and making a life together. Better late than never, right? The way Mat spoke about this man, Ellie knew she still had feelings for him.

  ‘Why didn’t you contact him?’

  ‘He needed time to get over his loss.’

  Ellie raised her eyebrows. ‘Two years? Come on … let’s google him, try and find his phone number.’ She unfolded her legs, and was leaping up to fetch her iPhone when she felt Matilda’s firm grip on her arm.

  ‘No.’ The word was like a gunshot.

  Ellie flopped back against the couch, disappointed. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her godmother’s voice was shaky but her words were clear. ‘Some things are better left in the past. He has a family – kids, grandchildren – me suddenly appearing in his life could disrupt what he holds nearest and dearest. It’s different for you. I told you about Tom because I wish, more than anything, that I’d followed my heart. I should have left Dougal and gone with Tom. I should have been honest with everybody.’ She paused and looked seriously into Ellie’s eyes. ‘You have that chance. You’ve been honest with yourself, but can you be honest with Flynn?’

  Chapter Eighteen

  That Saturday, after the game (another Hurricanes loss), Flynn, Rats and a group of mates piled into a school minivan (driven by one of the footy-playing teachers, Simon) and headed north-west, bound for the big smoke. Normally, Flynn would have been uneasy about two nights of drinking and partying – it was Rats’s bucks’ weekend – knowing he’d be the only one sober, surrounded by temptation, but today he relished the opportunity to get away from Hope, to put some distance between himself and Ellie.

  Since their near kiss by the shearing shed, he’d thought about precious little else. And he couldn’t afford to be distracted at the moment. Following the success of the ram sale, he had plenty on the farm to keep him busy. Some of the ewes had started lambing now, and checking them was a full-time job in itself. But he still woke with thoughts of Ellie, thoughts and images that stayed with him through the day and long into his restless nights.

  ‘Chuck us another beer,’ yelled Paul, one of Rats’s cousins.

  Rats dug into the esky at his feet and threw a can of Emu Export across the van. Flynn resisted the urge to ask for one as well. He could put Ellie out of his mind without alcohol, he decided – he’d managed it pretty well for the last eight years.

  But they were still an hour from Perth, and already he and Simon were the only two not half-sloshed. Which was a little worrying given their first stop was to get the groomsmen fitted for the big day.

  As if reading his mind, Rats leaned in. ‘Relax, old man, this’ll be my last one till tonight. And I’m not going to go mad then either, can’t wait for tomorrow.’

  For tomorrow, Flynn had organised for them to do some laps in a V8 Supercar at Barbagallo Raceway. Rats had been a racing fan for as long as he could remember. Personally, Flynn could take or leave it – he preferred the hands-on physicality of football and other team sports – but right now, he couldn’t wait to get in the hotted-up car, put his foot down and let off some steam. Once he’d rid his body of the tension that had been eating him the last few days, maybe his head would be clear enough to make a logical decision about Ellie Hughes.

  After their talk on Thursday night, Ellie thought about nothing but Mat’s advice, about her belief that she should talk to Flynn. She rehearsed over and again exactly what she would say when she next got a minute with him, but such an opportunity wasn’t forthcoming. For weeks Flynn had been popping up wherever Ellie went, but now he seemed to have done a disappearing act. She was unsure whether this was simply a coincidence, or perhaps on purpose. But then, unlike her, he wasn’t on leave from work – he had plenty to fill his days.

  A week after they’d nearly kissed under the gum tree, Ellie started feeling anxious. Flynn didn’t make an appearance at Tuesday’s play practice and now, on Thursday night, the rehearsal was nearing an end, with no sign of his irresistible self. Sure, he’d been away on the weekend, and he didn’t need to be here now all the set work was being done offsite. But Ellie thought it odd when he didn’t even venture out of his car to drop Lucy off.

  Was she being paranoid, or now that she thought about it, did he look a little relieved when her phone rang that day? She touched her lips at the memory and then glanced across the room. Lucy and Sam were entwined like trained rosebushes. She hadn’t forgotten she still needed to talk to Lucy. Perhaps if she did, she’d have a legitimate reason to talk to Flynn. She marched across the hall, stopping a metre or so in front of the teenage sweethearts, and cleared her throat.

  ‘Lucy, do you have a moment?’

  ‘Sure, how can I help, Els?’ Lucy let go of Sam’s hand and he, as if sensing this was women’s business, crossed to the supper table.

  Ellie pursed her lips, hoping Lucy wouldn’t take this conversation the wrong way. She stalled a second. ‘Is Flynn picking you up?’

  Lucy shook her head. ‘Mum is. Flynn’s got a rehearsal for the wedding.’

  ‘Oh, right. That’s this weekend, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yep, Saturday. Personally, I’ll be glad when it’s over. The town can’t seem to talk about anything else.’

  Ellie supposed she should be glad the focus was now on the wedding, rather than her. But Lucy, realising her gaffe, covered her hand with her mouth.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. You probably don’t like talking about weddings.’

  Lucy was right, she didn’t, but Ellie liked to think she was capable of doing so. Or maybe she just had other things on her mind right now. She shrugged. ‘It’ll be fine. What about you? Are you going?’

  Lucy shook her head. ‘I’m too young, apparently.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I’d much prefer to hang with Sam anyway.’

  ‘Umm … This was Ellie’s cue. She could feel the colour rising in her che
eks already, but if she wanted an excuse to approach Flynn, she needed to see this through. ‘About you and Sam …’ she started, ‘things are going well there?’

  ‘Fabulous.’ Lucy’s own cheeks flushed and her eyes twinkled. She glanced across the room, to where Sam was digging into a plate of scones, and beamed. It was almost identical to the glow the seventeen-year-old Ellie had had whenever Flynn was near. Ellie didn’t want to burst that bubble, but young love burned fast and bright. Aside from Flynn’s concerns, she cared about Lucy and didn’t want her ending up in a similar predicament to her own.

  ‘If you want to talk about anything to do with Sam, you know, about being … intimate, I’m here.’ God, this was awkward. Now Ellie knew how parents felt when they had to have the talk with their children.

  Lucy giggled, clearly not nearly as uncomfortable as Ellie. ‘Thank you for your concern. Am I right in guessing this is coming from Flynn?’

  Ellie didn’t say a word.

  ‘Tell him not to worry about me,’ Lucy continued. ‘Sam is the best, but I’m not rushing into sex. I’ll put out when I’m ready and when I’m ready only, not a moment before. If Sam can’t wait, his loss.’

  Wow, she was so wise and confident. Flynn had never taken Ellie for granted but she’d been a ball of nerves and self-doubt at Lucy’s age. Ellie admired her, wishing all the more that things had turned out differently.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Ellie smiled. ‘But if you ever change your mind, you know where I am.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Lucy leaned forward and put her arms around Ellie. ‘You’re the greatest, you know that? I’m so happy you and Flynn are friends again.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rats and Whitney had planned a wedding that reflected who they were. They wanted it to be casual and fun, a celebration of their love, shared with the people they looked upon as their closest friends. The fact that they considered about two hundred locals to fit this definition meant Whitney’s family’s shearing shed – decked out in silver and pink balloons and a zillion fairy lights – was full to bursting when the bride turned up at dusk.

  Flynn proudly stood beside the bloke who’d been his best mate since their first day at school, and grinned at the sheen of sweat across his brow. ‘You okay?’ he whispered. Whitney was only five minutes late, but if anyone could understand the groom’s anxiety, it was Flynn. If the improbable ever happened and Flynn came to be tying the knot himself (again), he’d learnt one thing: weddings should be held early in the day to reduce the opportunity for nervousness.

  But Rats didn’t hear him. At the roar of the vintage ute on the gravel driveway he lifted his head and relaxed his shoulders. The tense line of his lips transformed into a crazy smile as he glanced out the doorway and caught sight of Whitney riding on the back of her dad’s 1960s Holden FB ute. That vehicle was legendary in these parts. It had been Whitney’s granddad’s last car; the poor bloke had rolled it and died. But Whitney’s dad refused to let the ute go with the old man, spending years lovingly bringing it back to life.

  Still, Flynn shouldn’t be thinking about the transport when everyone else had their eyes glued to the bride. Whitney was a vision atop the ute in her white, ruffled dress, her two bridesmaids giggling on either side. It was a sight you’d only ever see in the sticks, but if Flynn knew Whitney, she’d have made sure that tray was cleaned to within an inch of its life, so that not so much as a single black speck could mark her pristine gown.

  The guests held their breath as they watched Whitney and her bridesmaids disembark. Beside Flynn, Rats let out a wolf whistle, making everyone break into laughter. Whitney’s smile was the largest of all as her eyes followed the sound and caught on Rats, dressed to the nines in his swish, black suit. From that moment, everything about Rats and Whitney’s country wedding was relaxing and, Flynn had to admit, romantic. Not the mushy kind of romance his mum, gran and sister went gooey over, but ridgy-didge romance – the kind he’d seen between his parents growing up, the kind he’d always assumed he’d have himself one day.

  As the ceremony began, some people stood, while others sat on hay bales in semicircular rows around the couple of the hour. When Rats spoke his personally written vows, there wasn’t a dry eye in the shed, including Flynn’s.

  ‘I, Jordan Kage O’Donnell, take you, Whitney Rebecca Browne, to be my lawful wedded wife. I promise to love and adore you, to be there whenever you need someone to laugh with or a shoulder to cry on. I want to travel the world with you, to have babies and grandbabies with you, to grow old with you. I dream of us sitting on the verandah at the end of a long day, drinking beer and just being together. You are my best friend, my soulmate, and I would do anything to make you happy; yes, I’ll even wash the dirty dishes every night. I thought nothing could top the day you agreed to become my wife. But each day with you is better than the last, and I know we have so much to look forward to. Whitney, I love you with all my heart.’

  Whitney’s response was hard to make out, choked up as she was from Rats’s heartfelt vows, but hers were equally genuine. And the look in her eyes when she gazed at her husband told Flynn, and everyone else in the shed, that these two would be very happy for a very long time.

  Even the Anglican minister struggled to speak when the rings were called for. Flynn slipped the two simple gold bands out of his pocket and laid them on the Bible before him. When he stepped back he realised his hands were shaky, along with his legs. What the hell was wrong with him? He thought he’d gotten over his queasiness with weddings. This setting was about as far from his near miss in the church as one could get, and he couldn’t be happier for his friends. He tried to focus on his balance, watching in awe as Rats and Whitney placed the rings on each other’s fingers. Something inside him squeezed, something hurt. And then they kissed.

  While everyone else was whistling and hooting cheers around him, while Rats’s mouth explored his new wife’s for a lot longer than necessary, Flynn had an epiphany. He still wanted this. He’d lived ten years in denial, thinking that happiness could be found in other things – first alcohol, then the farm – but it wasn’t true. Not for him anyway. The only real thing in life was love and family, and dammit, he wanted that more than anything.

  Just not with Ellie, he thought. As much as he loved her company, she’d hurt him irrevocably, and she’d moved on. The call from her agent had rammed home that fact: she would never be his again. What would he do once she went back to Sydney? And to think, he’d been that close to kissing her …

  Flynn knew he couldn’t keep up the pretence of friendship, but now he felt that even avoidance wasn’t enough. He needed to move on. Not only did he need distance from Ellie, he had to stop comparing every woman he met to her. He had to make an effort.

  ‘Flynn, what are you waiting for?’ Lauren’s voice brought him back. He swallowed and looked up at her. In one hand she held a pink bouquet; the other was perched on her hip, her elbow held out to him. He realised they were supposed to link arms. This was his cue to follow Rats and Whitney down the aisle – the middle of the shed – and out into the paddocks where they were scheduled to have photos. Thankfully, everyone was too busy kissing and congratulating the newlyweds to notice that the best man and maid of honour were still dilly-dallying.

  He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. ‘Sorry Lauren.’ Her took her arm.

  ‘What were you thinking about?’ she asked as they smiled and nodded at the gathered guests.

  ‘Nothing important,’ he muttered quietly, so as only she could hear.

  ‘What would you give me if I guessed?’ Lauren stopped and hugged Whitney’s mum. ‘Great wedding, Tanya.’

  Flynn followed suit to hug the parents of the bride and groom, then turned back to Lauren. ‘What would you want?’

  ‘One dance.’

  He took in Lauren’s curvaceous body in her hot pink bridesmaid’s gown. She was nothing like Ellie but … hell, he’d just made a promise not to think about Ellie. In the last few yea
rs, Lauren had grown from the ditsy girl at school into a very attractive woman. Flynn had seen a different side to her at the ram sale too.

  ‘I thought, as best man, that I had to dance with you?’

  ‘Geez, don’t make it sound like such a hardship.’ She was trying to make a joke, but her disappointment was tangible.

  He grabbed her hand and squeezed. ‘Lauren, I’d love to dance with you. But,’ he saw the hope in her eyes, ‘first we have to suffer photos.’ She smiled at him and he felt a warm glow spread through his body. Maybe there was light at the end of the Ellie tunnel.

  After agreeing with every guest that Whitney was the most divine bride ever created, and that, yes, Rats had scrubbed up quite well too, Flynn and Lauren emerged into the early evening air. On the horizon, orange and purple melded together to create the most amazing sunset Flynn had ever seen.

  The photographer caught him looking and said, ‘I want to get a few snaps of the bride and groom before we lose the backdrop. You two,’ he directed two fingers at Lauren and Flynn, ‘stand by for group shots.’

  Nodding, they sat down on a couple of old logs and watched the newlyweds smile, hug, kiss and generally play up for the camera.

  ‘How’s your family?’ Lauren eventually asked, breaking the silence.

  ‘Good, thanks. Busy. Mum keeps talking about you, saying we should invite you round for a thank you dinner. You know, for helping with the sale and all.’

  ‘As I said before, it was a blast. Since Dad sold the farm, I don’t get to go to many ram sales. To be honest, I miss them.’

  ‘Did you ever think about taking on the farm yourself?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not really. Dad never gave me the option anyway. He always said farming was men’s business. Although I couldn’t have done a much worse job than him.’