Something to Talk About (Rose Hill, #2)

by Rachael Johns

  These were words she’d always wanted to hear. She’d fantasised about them, and in the early years, listened to his songs to see if there was anything about her in them—but his apology didn’t affect her in the way she’d always imagined it would.

  ‘So all those girls you’ve been photographed with in magazines didn’t mean anything?’

  His lips quirked upwards a little. ‘You been following my career?’

  ‘No, but this is a small town. People talk, and for some reason they like talking to me about you.’

  ‘I guess they all have memories like elephants as well.’

  She almost laughed at that but managed to stop herself, waiting instead for a proper answer.

  ‘The girls were just part of the lifestyle,’ he finally admitted, with an almost imperceptible shrug. ‘The magazines, the tweets, the selfies, they all make it look and sound much better than it is. But women only want me for one thing—they want the street cred that comes with being linked to a musician. The attention was great at first, but as I get older, I want more. I want something real and it’s almost impossible to find that in my world. I haven’t had a meaningful relationship since you.’

  ‘We were just kids,’ Tab said quietly, although until recently she would have said the same about him. She’d gone out with Ryder longer than she’d even known Fergus, but now, sitting here with him, she didn’t feel any of the things she’d been worried about. He simply felt like an old friend. Fergus was now the one who filled her head every waking moment.

  ‘Maybe,’ Ryder admitted, ‘but lots of people marry their first love. Many a high-school romance lasts a lifetime. And it’s true when they say you never forget your first. I’ve certainly spent a lot of time wondering how different things could have been if I hadn’t let you go. Maybe I wouldn’t be so damn lonely. Maybe I wouldn’t be trying to fill the void inside me with other things. I suppose you heard about my recent charge for drink driving?’

  She nodded. ‘It was big news when I picked up Ned from school one day. People weren’t impressed, but then the moment you agreed to come back for the show, they seemed to forgive and forget.’

  He smiled sadly. ‘What about you, Tabby? I’m not sure I’m doing a very good job of it, but I’m trying to apologise. What do you say? Do you forgive me for the bastardly way I treated you? I really am sorry. If I could turn back time, I would.’

  And it turned out an apology ten years late was better than no apology at all. She wondered whether he’d have bothered if he hadn’t happened to be in the area, but really, what did it matter? Forgiveness was as much about the person doing the forgiving as it was about the person asking for it. Tab thought about Fergus—how bitter he was about his sister and ex and how he needed to forgive them if he wanted to be truly happy himself. She couldn’t think one thing for him and something different for herself.

  ‘Yes, I forgive you,’ she said, feeling a sudden lightness at simply saying the words.

  ‘Thank you.’ He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. ‘So many times over the years I’ve wanted to reach out to you, but I’ve always been too ashamed by my actions. I only said yes to playing at the show because it would give me an excuse to come see you. To finally try and make some kind of amends.’

  Tab smiled back at him, happy to realise she felt no sparks whatsoever. Instead, a bubble of amusement rose up inside her at this whole situation. She couldn’t believe how terrified she’d been of facing him again—it felt like a cat being scared of facing a mouse.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Ryder slowly withdrew his hand, slight discomfort in his expression.

  ‘Sorry, it’s not what you’re saying, it’s just that I was so nervous about you coming back here and pitying me, but I never imagined you making me pity you.’

  He frowned. ‘What’s there to pity about your life? You have family that love you, a community, a great business and a place to call your own. I envy that. Fame, and even wealth, isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and I’d give it up in a second if there was a better offer on the table.’

  ‘You’d give up singing and playing the guitar?’

  ‘Well, I couldn’t completely. Music’s part of who I am, not to mention the fact I’ve got contracts with the record company and would owe a lot of money if I broke them. But I wouldn’t mind slowing things a little. I’m ready to settle down, perhaps even start a family.’

  Tab blinked, not completely sure she believed him.

  ‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘I know you’re pretty busy, but is there any time in your life for music anymore? Do you still sing?’

  ‘Actually, I have been dabbling a little recently,’ she admitted, her heart squeezing as she recalled that night singing along to the accordion in Fergus’s classroom. That had been one of her happiest nights with him. The joy of singing and trying to play an instrument again, of sharing that passion with someone she cared about, gave her a buzz like nothing else. ‘I never stopped singing for myself but recently I sang in front of someone else again and I loved it.’

  Ryder grinned. ‘That’s fantastic.’

  He didn’t ask who, and for that she was part grateful, part annoyed, but both feelings were short-lived because suddenly she felt a rumble in her stomach. And it wasn’t because she was hungry. Instinctively her hand rushed to her bump as she tried to feel the movement from the outside, but it was too early. Yet Tab knew what she’d felt—that tiny bubble of movement was her baby and actually feeling it squirm inside her was the most magical thing.

  ‘What is it? Are you okay?’ Ryder’s eyebrows drew together as he leaned towards her.

  ‘Okay? I’m more than okay. I just felt my baby move for the first time.’

  He recoiled and his eyes bulged as he tried to get a look at her stomach. ‘You’re pregnant?’

  ‘Yes. I’m almost eighteen weeks.’ With the baggy T-shirt she wore she was definitely still at that ambiguous stage, where her bump could be mistaken for over-indulging at lunch.

  He blinked. ‘Whose is it?’

  ‘Congratulations is usually the correct response when someone tells you they’re expecting,’ she said. However, feeling magnanimous, she told him anyway. ‘But the baby’s mine, just mine. I chose to have it via artificial insemination.’

  He’d looked shocked by the pregnant part but the emotion that flashed across his face now was definitely relief, which amused her and, she wouldn’t lie, made her feel smug. It was nice to think that maybe he could still get a little jealous over her.

  ‘Wow,’ he said eventually. ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Tab beamed back, glad she didn’t feel embarrassed at all telling him, but empowered. She was proud to be taking control of her own destiny, focusing on the future, not the past. ‘Which is why I told you this couldn’t be a late night. The baby and I need our rest.’

  Ryder nodded, taking her cue. He stood and picked up both their empty mugs. ‘No worries, I understand. I’m so grateful for you giving me any time at all.’

  ‘Leave those,’ she said, nodding towards the mugs. As she escorted him to the front door, she added, ‘This has been good for me too. I’m glad we cleared the air. Thank you for coming.’

  He smiled warmly at her. ‘Look, you can tell me I’m crazy, but …’

  ‘What is it?’ she prodded.

  ‘What would you say to doing a duet with me next weekend?’

  ‘What?’ That was the last thing she’d expected.

  ‘I thought it might be cool if we do one of our old songs. Don’t you remember all those years ago that one of our first ever gigs was at the Walsh show?’

  Of course she remembered. Their performances were some of the happiest moments of her life, but she’d closed the door on ever expecting to perform—especially with him—again.

  ‘I thought the locals might get a kick out of seeing us back on stage together, and that you might enjoy it as well. But,’ Ryder shrugged, ‘if you don’t want to, I understand. It wa
s just a thought.’

  Her instinct was to refuse, but for some reason the words wouldn’t form on her tongue. There wasn’t much she’d experienced in her life that gave her more of a buzz than belting out songs in front of an audience. The only things that had ever come close were feeling her baby move for the first time just now, and being with Fergus. The possibility of doing something to take her mind off him appealed immensely.

  But was she crazy for even contemplating it? Was she simply still on a high from feeling her child? Or was this exactly the type of closure she needed? Things had ended so abruptly between them, she’d never known the last time they sung together would actually be the last.

  ‘I’m not sure, Ryder,’ she said. ‘I haven’t performed for almost ten years.’

  He looked down into her face and smiled. ‘It’s like riding a bike, especially for someone with your natural talent.’

  She rubbed her lips together. ‘Can I give it some thought?’

  ‘Of course. But don’t take too long, because we’d have to practice a bit. Of course I’d happily fit around your schedule—mine’s a blank slate this week.’

  ‘Okay. Is there a number I can contact you on when I’ve made my decision?’

  He pulled out his wallet, retrieved a business card and handed it to her. ‘That’s my private mobile. You can call me on that, but don’t give it to anyone else. I only hand out this card to very important people.’

  Then, before she could say anything to that, he leant forward, kissed her on the cheek, then pushed open the door and strode out into the night.

  Tab blinked as she heard his expensive car start up. Had that really just happened?

  Chapter Thirty-One

  ‘Dammit.’ Ferg thumped his fist on the steering wheel as he slowed his car to a standstill and eyed the unexpected traffic jam ahead in disgust. He looked from side to side, behind him, and when he couldn’t see any way of escape, he climbed out of the car to assess the situation.

  ‘Think we’ll be here for a while, mate,’ came a voice from behind. Ferg turned to see it belonged to a scruffy-looking man in a navy singlet who’d climbed onto the roof of his ute to get a better view. ‘Looks like a road train has gone over. It’s taken up the whole damn road.’

  Ferg sighed and flicked a fly from his face, resisting the urge to temper his frustration with a swift kick to his car tyre. He was only half an hour from Walsh on the one road that went in and out of town. Cars were already grid-locked for a couple of kilometres on either side of him and the last road off this one was at least five kilometres back. He was well and truly stuck, unless he wanted to abandon his car and walk.

  ‘Hope you don’t need to be anywhere in a hurry,’ called the bloke on the roof. ‘It’ll be a couple of hours before they clean up this mess I reckon.’

  The mood he was in right now, if he had to listen to this guy’s commentary for said couple of hours, he was liable to kill someone.

  ‘Hopefully no one’s hurt, ay?’

  Ferg forced a smile at roof-man and nodded.

  He should have left Perth earlier. But Eider had slept late and neither he nor Jools had wanted to wake her. Now it was almost three o’clock in the afternoon and Tabitha would be wrapping up things at the tea rooms, but the way it looked here, he’d not be getting there any time soon. The two hours’ drive with his own thoughts had been bad enough—he kept wondering if his sister really had any idea what she was talking about—but if he had to wait another couple of hours stuck in traffic, he’d go crazy.

  He couldn’t wait to see Tab—one look at her and he felt certain he’d know in his heart what he needed to do.

  With another heavy sigh, Ferg was about to climb back into his car when a shadow came up behind him and he turned to see roof-man approaching with two cans of Coke.

  He held one out to Ferg. ‘You look like you could do with a cold one. Lucky I stopped at the last servo and stocked up. You far from home?’

  Ferg thanked him and cracked open the can. ‘Um … I’m living in Walsh at the moment.’

  The man nodded. ‘Great little town. I’m from Barker, but my ex-girlfriend’s mum came from there and I drive through it a bit, to and from jobs.’

  Not really in the mood for small talk, Ferg took a sip of his drink. The sugary hit was a welcome reprieve from the frustrating afternoon.

  ‘You play cards?’

  ‘Occasionally,’ Ferg replied, and before he knew what was happening the guy had whipped a pack out of his back pocket and was lowering himself onto the bitumen.

  He looked up at him. ‘Well? You got a better way to pass the time?’

  As Fergus did not, he lowered himself to the ground. Thank God it wasn’t a hot afternoon. ‘What are we playing?’

  ‘Gin rummy. You any good?’

  ‘Okay.’ That was a stretch; he was much better at board games. Eider had always whipped his arse whenever they played cards.

  ‘Excellent,’ said roof-man, and started dealing out the cards.

  Within five minutes another three people had joined them, so they swapped gin rummy for poker and got quite a game going in the middle of the road. They weren’t playing for sheep stations—although Ferg reckoned a couple of these blokes might own one—and for this he was grateful because he was even worse at poker than he was at gin rummy. But it passed the time and kept his mind from going round in circles about Tabitha.

  Or at least he thought it did.

  ‘Penny for them,’ asked a lanky bloke with a long beard who was almost as bad at cards as Ferg was.

  ‘Huh?’ He looked up from his dismal hand.

  ‘You’ve got something other than cards on your mind.’

  And the other blokes agreed with him.

  ‘I reckon it’s a lay-dee,’ sang roof-man. ‘I’ve been following you from the outskirts of Perth and you’ve had your foot to the metal the whole way and you looked mighty pissed at our delay.’

  ‘I’m just eager to get home,’ Ferg said. How had this stranger known the truth when he wasn’t even sure how he felt himself?

  The four men shook their heads at him.

  ‘How long since you’ve seen her?’ asked the oldest of the lot.

  ‘Only a few days,’ he admitted, ‘but we had a big fight and didn’t part on the best terms.’

  The men nodded solemnly.

  ‘What’d ya fight about?’ asked roof-man.

  And maybe it was the fumes from some of the surrounding cars that were still running, but Ferg found himself confessing his whirlwind relationship with Tabitha and the reason why he’d pulled away.

  ‘But you love her?’ The question was posed by the oldest guy and Fergus answered honestly.

  ‘Yes, more than I ever thought I’d love anyone again.’

  ‘Then trust me.’ The old guy clapped him on the shoulder. ‘You’ll love her kid just as much.’ He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and flicked it open to a photo. ‘See these three?’

  Ferg looked down at a photo of two women and one man.

  ‘They’re my kids. All grown up now, but still my pride and joy. I came into their lives when they were ten, twelve and fifteen. It wasn’t always easy, but I wouldn’t be without their mother or them and I’d do anything for them. The youngest is just about to make us grandparents and I couldn’t be more excited. Sometimes water can be just as thick as blood.’

  The love in the old man’s voice had Ferg choking up a little, thinking about what Eider had said, but there was a shout from one of the nearby cars before he managed to reply.

  ‘Get up, you lot. We’re moving.’

  As roof-man gathered up the cards, the other men jumped to their feet and all slapped Fergus on the back—‘You go get your girl!’—before heading back to their respective cars.

  And, he realised, that’s exactly what he wanted to do.

  Full of hope from the old guy’s story, he helped roof-man to his feet and then leapt into his own car. As the traffic started moving in front of
him, he could actually feel his blood pumping through his body. He suddenly felt alive again.

  He was going to see Tabitha and he was going to tell her exactly how he felt.

  As he drove the remaining distance to Walsh and then turned down the road that would take him to Rose Hill, he rehearsed in his head exactly what he would say. He wanted to get the words out, to explain everything to her before he took her into his arms and kissed her, because the way he felt right now, he simply couldn’t wait to hold her again.

  It was almost 5 pm by the time he finally pulled up in front of the tea rooms and as predicted, the place was deserted. He remembered that it was Sunday and Tabitha usually went to the farm for a roast dinner.

  The idea of facing her in front of her family wasn’t all that appealing, but neither was waiting any longer to see her. He turned towards his car and suddenly noticed another car parked on the road that he hadn’t even registered before. It must belong to someone staying at the B&B because it certainly didn’t look like it belonged to anyone who lived around here. Then he heard music drifting from around the back and his heart leapt—perhaps she was home after all but hadn’t heard him knocking over the sound of her stereo. Without another thought, he shoved his keys in his pocket and followed the music down the side of the building and around to the back of the house.

  He slowed as he approached, realising it wasn’t recorded music at all, but actual people singing live along to a guitar. One female voice and one decidedly male. The song ended and he heard Tabitha’s beautiful full laugh.

  ‘That was great,’ said a deep voice. ‘You are one of a kind. It’s just like we were never apart.’

  Then there was silence. Against his better judgement, Ferg peered round the edge of the building and every bone in his body turned to ice at what he saw.

  Tabitha with some blond dude’s arms wrapped around her, her head resting against his shoulder and her arm clinging to his back. The whole situation screamed intimacy, almost worse than if he’d stumbled upon them in the bedroom. He retreated as quickly and quietly as he could, knowing this bleak image would be imprinted onto his corneas for the rest of his life.