Mark dashed through the rain to his car to open the passenger door, and Sylvia ducked in. ‘So, where’s the house of Dr Greene?’ he asked, his hand poised on the ignition. She told him her address and promised to lead the way when they arrived back in Tarrin’s Bay.
‘I live in the hills. Not as close to town but great views,’ Mark said. ‘Have you always lived here, or did you move away for uni?’
‘Moved to Sydney for a few years, but the Bay drew me back.’
‘Sure is a beautiful place.’
‘What about you, why Tarrin’s Bay?’ Sylvia asked.
‘Why not?’ Mark smiled.
‘That’s a good enough reason I suppose.’ Sylvia smiled too, and they drove in silence for a while. Was she actually getting along with him now? Maybe it was just the wine, and the food, and the dancing, and things would go back to their uncomfortable normality at work on Monday.
‘I’m sorry I interrogated you earlier, about why you switched university courses,’ Sylvia said. ‘I didn’t mean any disrespect.’
‘I know. Don’t worry, I had to deal with my father’s disapproval for a long time. He really wanted me to take over the family pharmacy.’
‘Yeah, it’s hard to disappoint parents,’ Sylvia commented. ‘But in the end you’ve got to do what’s right for you.’
‘I’ve realised that,’ Mark replied.
Their conversation dwindled, as thunder sounded and water lashed loudly at the windscreen, the wipers working overtime yet not doing a good enough job at maintaining a clear view of the road.
‘Geez, this is bad,’ Mark said loudly above the roar of the rain. ‘Do you want me to pull over somewhere?’ A jagged spear of lightning lit up the sky for a split second.
‘We’re close to my place, but it’s up to you,’ Sylvia yelled back.
‘We’ll keep going then.’
She instructed him to take the next left turn, and led him towards her house, just as the rain transformed into hard clumps of ice, pelting on the roof of the car like a thousand angry fists.
‘You can park in my garage till it passes,’ Sylvia said, gesturing towards the final turn into her street. She bit the corner of her bottom lip, realising that the hail would probably be adding to her car’s damage, and she didn’t think the tow truck driver would be concerned with finding shelter for it.
A wedge of light from Nancy’s window signalled Sylvia’s arrival home. A beacon in the night. She pressed the remote on her key ring and the garage door rolled upwards. They pulled into the garage, the roar of the hailstorm suddenly abating. Sylvia closed the garage door behind them and got out of the car, shaking water from her hair and clothes. ‘Would you like a cup of tea or something?’ she asked.
‘Love one,’ Mark replied, ruffling his wet hair.
They entered the door that led through the laundry into the kitchen, taking off their shoes on the way. Sylvia flicked on the lights.
‘Nice place,’ Mark said as his eyes scanned the room.
‘Thanks.’ Sylvia thought so too. She prided herself on keeping a tidy and clutter-free house. A person’s home was a representation of themselves. She turned the kettle on and a deep rumble grew, escalating gradually, until suddenly it stopped and darkness overtook the house. ‘Oh man! Two more minutes and we would’ve had boiling water. Can I interest you in a juice, or a glass of milk?’ Sylvia said into the darkness.
‘Juice will be fine,’ Mark’s voice replied.
Sylvia ran her fingers along the bench towards the corner drawer, where she kept a torch and matches. ‘That’s better,’ she said, pressing the rubber ‘on’ button. The torchlight gave an eerie glow to the kitchen, as she shone it into the fridge and withdrew the juice. ‘I better light some candles first.’ Sylvia carried the torch in one hand and the matches in the other, lighting various candles she had positioned around the house. They were for decoration mostly, she rarely lit them, but the warm glow and delicate scent surrounding them had her thinking she must do this more often.
Sylvia poured the juice into two glasses. ‘Here you go.’ She handed one to Mark. He walked into the living room and sat on the lounge, while Sylvia brought over a bowl of pretzels and joined him. Not long ago she was sitting here with Richard, and now she was sitting here with Mark. Who would’ve thought? Hail tumbled from the sky as they munched on pretzels and drank juice.
‘You play piano?’ Mark pointed behind her.
‘Me? No, I’m just keeping it here for my mother. No room at her place.’
‘I don’t have a musical bone in my body,’ Mark confessed.
‘Although you did pretty well on the dance floor tonight.’ Sylvia smiled, and they both laughed.
‘I was terrified. Luke didn’t tell me anything about having to dance, but I think it’ll be fun. At least we’re performing after dessert when everyone’s already had a few drinks.’
‘Larissa better not put it on YouTube, the last thing I want is my patients seeing me make a fool of myself.’
‘They might start calling you “Dr Dance”,’ Mark joked. ‘Or “The Dancing Doctor”.’
Sylvia hid her face with her hands. ‘Oh, what a night this has been!’
‘Tell me about it.’ Mark sipped his juice, and placed it on a coaster on the coffee table. ‘Do you have a competitive streak?’ he asked, pointing to the television cabinet where a collection of board games lay stacked on one of the shelves.
‘If there’s a competition, I’m in it,’ she replied. ‘I can’t pass up a challenge.’
‘Fancy a game of candlelit scrabble then?’
‘I can’t say I’ve ever experienced candlelit scrabble. How can I refuse?’ Sylvia put down her glass and took the game from the shelf. The last time she’d played was after her birthday dinner last year, when her parents came to stay. The weather was miserable, and forced interaction through a board game was the least painful way of spending time with her parents, whose conversation usually revolved around politics and the latest current affairs, something she had no interest in.
Mark set up the board while Sylvia lit a couple of tea light candles and placed them on the coffee table. They each picked a tile to decide who would start.
‘Ha! Me first,’ Sylvia said, wriggling into a comfortable position and selecting seven tiles from the velvet pouch. She studied her letters and immediately formed the word: RIPPLE. ‘Twenty points for me!’ She jotted down her score onto a notepad.
‘Twenty?’
‘Yeah, when you go first you get a double word score,’ Sylvia explained.
‘Well, enjoy your temporary lead, because it ain’t gonna last long,’ Mark said, eyes of determination directed to his tiles as he shuffled them around in different combinations. ‘Hey, do I get a double word score too if I add to your word?’
Sylvia shook her head side to side. ‘Nope, and now I know you’ve got an ‘S’,’ she replied.
‘Not anymore,’ Mark revealed, adding six tiles to the board and hijacking a ‘P’ from RIPPLE to form the word: SPECIAL.
‘That’s only fourteen points,’ Sylvia remarked. ‘What was that you said about my lead not lasting long?’
‘Just you wait, I’ll be ahead of you in no time.’
And soon he was. Sixty-two points ahead to be exact, thanks to a convenient triple word score and a venereal disease called SYPHILIS. If Sylvia hadn’t put TY on the end of SPECIAL, he wouldn’t have got it, so it wasn’t as if it was due to any skill on his part, just pure luck. Plus, since he used up all seven of his tiles in one go he scored a bonus fifty points. Damn Scrabble rules.
Soon random words littered the scrabble board, and to add to their own amusement they tried making up sentences with as many of the words included as possible. Sylvia tried unsuccessfully to hold back a snort of laughter when Mark came up with, ‘Ripples of syphilis waltzed downhill among moaning tigers’. It was so ridiculous it was funny, and Sylvia even managed to rearrange it into her own version, ‘Moaning tigers waltzed downhill among
ripples of syphilis’. Twice in one night she’d had a good old belly laugh. She’d forgotten what that was like. With Richard everything was so serious, and she couldn’t imagine him ever mucking around for fun like she was with Mark right now. She didn’t miss him anymore.
‘You have a good vocabulary,’ Mark said.
‘You know a lot of big words yourself,’ Sylvia responded.
‘We’re vocabuliferous,’ he said with a grin.
‘Since when is vocabuliferous a word?’ Sylvia teased, lightly touching Mark’s forearm.
‘Since when is “moaning tigers waltzed downhill among ripples of syphilis” an acceptable sentence to say out loud, ever?’
Sylvia laughed again. ‘Since tonight I guess.’ She shook her head at the ridiculousness that was this evening, yet marvelled at how relaxed and at ease she felt right now. Somehow, Mark had inched closer without her noticing, and before she could process what was happening, he leaned forward, his eyes staring into her heart, his lips seeking hers. She tilted her chin ever so slightly, then jerked back in surprise as light flooded the room.
‘Power’s back on,’ she blurted out.
‘So it is.’ Mark looked around the room, as though seeing it for the first time. The moment now gone, he picked up the two glasses and took them to the sink.
Sylvia wondered when the hail had stopped; only silence filled the air now.
‘It’s late, I better get going,’ Mark said, turning his wrist to look at his watch.
Sylvia nodded in agreement, in conflict with the part of her that wanted him to stay.
‘I guess I’ll be seeing you at the church tomorrow,’ he said with a gentle smile, as he put his shoes back on.
‘Guess so.’ She walked him into the garage and opened the automatic door. ‘Thanks for driving me home.’ She raised her hand in a royal-like wave as he slid into the driver’s seat.
‘My pleasure.’ Mark closed the car door and reversed out, and she watched him drive away until the lights of his car faded into the night.
Chapter 18
After huddling under a blanket last night and most of Saturday morning, Grace finally opened the caravan door to check for any damage from the hailstorm. She’d fallen asleep about ten o’clock last night, The Woman In White book lying open on her chest, only to be woken soon after by the thundering downpour on her roof. She’d covered her head with a pillow, from fear of the roof caving in and showering her with a million shards of ice.
Apart from a few puddles and wayward branches on the ground, Grace could see no sign of damage. She even climbed a nearby tree to peer onto the roof just to make sure, and Mr Bennett, who was coming back from the bathrooms, a towel in hand, asked if she was alright. I really should get a life, she thought.
Inspired by the unexpected arrival of hot sun and cloud-free skies, Grace decided to take advantage of the weather and go for a bike ride. It would be a good way to explore the town further, and get some exercise. Apart from walking, she didn’t do much physical activity, and despite her slim figure she wanted to tone up and look as attractive as possible. Like Jonah. He obviously worked out or something, arm muscles like his didn’t just grow themselves. For a moment she imagined those arms wrapped around her, could almost feel their warmth and strength.
She walked the short distance to the bike hire shed before heading towards the riding track near the beach. Her mother used to take her riding on weekends through the large parks in Melbourne, and sometimes along the riverbank. Whenever she rode she’d feel free and powerful, and couldn’t believe it’d been years since she’d gotten on a bike.
A skirt of curly hair escaped from the bottom of her helmet, lifting gently off the back of her neck as she picked up speed. Breath quickening and calf muscles burning as she pedalled up the steep incline, Grace kept her eyes on the top of the hill as it drew closer. Placing one foot on the ground in relief when she reached the top, she took a sip of water from the bottle in her knapsack, then stared in awe at the view. She took four photos of the wide expanse of sea and sky, and zoomed in to take one of ‘Tarrin’, whose earthy face commanded the headland on the other side of the beach. She then turned the camera on herself, smiled, and clicked. She’d cut off the top off her helmet, and was positioned a little too far on the right of the shot, but it would be the sort of photo her mother would have liked. Natural and in the moment.
Grace continued riding and smiled at a woman on a bike who passed her in the other direction. A baby about nine months or so sat strapped into a child seat on the back, his eyes squinting and mouth open wide in delight. As the track curved around and began declining, children swinging back and forth on the swings came into view, while others climbed a mesh of rope and slid down the slide. She slowed a little and swerved around as she neared the park, where a child on a tricycle pedalled as fast as his little legs could go, but only moved at the speed of a tortoise.
Then she saw them. The arms. Jonah’s arms, bending up and down, veins pulsing atop his muscles as he did push-up after push-up on the sandy ground next to the park. Was she imagining this? Not long before, the image of those arms had popped into her mind and now here they were. The vision of those arms entwined around her body came to the forefront of her mind again, and she sighed.
She swerved again, but not in time to stop her bike colliding with one of the wooden stumps that formed a rather pathetic barrier from the riding track to the sand. The back wheel of the bike lifted up suddenly, and as it came back down the bike toppled sideways, Grace landing half on the concrete track and half on the sand. She looked up just in time to see The Arms paused mid push-up, their owner staring right at her. As if laughing at her predicament, the loud cackle of a kookaburra shook the air around her and an uncomfortable flush of heat rushed through her face.
‘Are you okay, Grace?’ Jonah asked as he approached, holding out a hand to help her up.
‘Oh hi, I didn’t see you there.’ Lie of the century. ‘I’m okay.’ Apart from the burning graze on her knee competing with the burning embarrassment on her cheeks.
‘What happened?’ Jonah smiled, as he picked up the bike for her.
‘The sun got in my eyes and, er…well you saw what happened.’ That was the best she could come up with. What was she supposed to say? I was mesmerised by your biceps pumping up and down and lost my balance? She was dying to hold her sore knee but didn’t want to seem like a wimp.
He must have read her mind. ‘You should give that graze a wash in the salt water, c’mon.’ He held out his hand again and led her towards the shore. They both walked knee-deep into the ocean, and Grace splashed the water around her knee, holding back a wince that tried to burst onto her face.
‘Do you ride often?’ he asked.
Was that a polite way of saying she must be a complete amateur? ‘I used to, but this is the first time in years,’ she said. ‘As you can tell!’
He smiled again, but didn’t laugh. ‘So, how long have you been working at the bookstore?’
‘About two weeks,’ she replied.
‘Are you new in town? I haven’t seen you before, apart from those times at the café,’ he asked.
‘Yep, I am a newbie.’
‘Thought so. Did you move here with your family?’
‘No, just me. It might be temporary, but I’ll see what happens.’ Grace now had another reason to stay.
‘Where did you live before?’
Grace laughed. ‘I feel like I’m on a game show!’
‘Sorry for the grilling, I’m not known for being shy!’
‘I gathered that. I’m from Melbourne,’ she replied, as they walked to where Jonah had propped the bike against a tree.
‘Never been there before,’ he said.
‘Really? It’s a great place, never boring.’
‘Unlike Tarrin’s Bay?’
‘No, I love it here!’ Grace smiled. ‘Everyone is so friendly, and I love how you can walk everywhere.’
‘Or cycle,’ Jonah added.<
br />
‘Well, try to.’ Grace gestured to the scene of her tumble. ‘So…you’re not working at the café today?’ Duh!
‘I’m working tonight, actually. My parents own Café Lagoon so my shifts are pretty flexible. There’s an awesome local singer and guitarist performing from eight tonight, so it should make for a good night.’
Grace nodded. ‘Cool.’
‘You should come.’ Jonah touched her forearm lightly, and so briefly, that Grace wondered if she imagined it. ‘A few of my friends will be there, and I can introduce you to them if you like.’
Grace’s heart beat faster, as though it may lose balance and tumble over at any moment too. She couldn’t stop the smile that tickled her cheeks. ‘Sounds good, I’ll be there.’
‘Great, see you tonight then.’ Jonah stepped aside as Grace straddled her bike, willing her legs to stop shaking and start pedalling. Although tempted, she didn’t dare look back at him. She’d already fallen twice today. Head over heels on the pavement, and head over heels for him.
* * *
Larissa managed to keep herself together for most of the day, until she and Luke walked down the aisle and out of the church after the ceremony. By the time Sylvia and Mark reached the church porch, Larissa was red-eyed and crying with happiness, Luke cradling her in his arms. The maid of honour pulled a tissue from the bust of her dress and dabbed at Larissa’s eyes. ‘Hold it in Larissa, you’ve got to keep your face nice for the photos!’
At this, Larissa found the strength to compose herself, and soon she was bombarded with guests filtering out of the church giving their congratulations.
‘Nervous about tonight?’ Mark asked Sylvia.
‘Nervous?’
‘About the dance routine,’ Mark said.
‘Oh that,’ Sylvia replied, thinking he may have meant was she nervous about the two of them. ‘Not so much, I’m sort of looking forward to it now.’
‘Me too.’ he smiled. ‘Where else can you dance like Michael Jackson in public and get away with it?’
‘Exactly. Weddings are good like that.’ Sylvia smiled and held his gaze for a split second more than usual, before they were interrupted by Larissa’s mother, ushering them towards the limousines so they could travel to the location where the photos were to be taken.
The January Wish Page 11
