Holding onto Hope

by Nicki Edwards

  Mitchell considered getting up and retrieving a beer for his best mate, but if Jordy wanted one, he could help himself. He knew his way around the house and the kitchen as well as Mitchell did. On his days off, Mitchell usually roped him in to help with the renovations.

  Jordan Hill had been a troubled teen when he’d met Mitchell. The boys were belligerent brats on a pathway to self-destruction when they were taken into foster care by a couple with a reputation for taking the worst of the worst. It was Mitchell’s ninth foster family and he didn’t expect it would be his last. He also never expected to make a friend or find a family.

  He and Jordy had arrived the same day. On the first night at dinner, around a table which seated at least a dozen other foster kids every meal, they found themselves positioned beside each other. Neither of them said a word. After dinner they were shown to their new bedroom—one they ended up sharing for the next five years.

  They barely spoke to each for the first week. Jordan was the one who broke the ice first and after two weeks he and Mitchell were firm friends.

  Initially Mitchell resisted forming a friendship with Jordan because he was worried that they’d be separated and moved on again, so he kept his heart closed. Jordan evidently felt the same way at first too, but their desire to stay together under Bill and Beth’s roof was enough to curb their ways.

  For the first time in Mitchell’s recollection he had people who looked out for him and genuinely seemed to care. It still blew his mind when he thought about it.

  Within six months he and Jordan were excelling at school, each one pushing the other in a constant competition, whether it be academics, sport, or music. Five years later they graduated high school with high academic results and scholarship places at a Melbourne university. Mitchell went into veterinary science while two of the other three members of their “awesome foursome”—as they once jokingly called themselves and it stuck—went into medicine. Lachlan and Jordan became doctors, while Sam did a combined nursing/paramedicine degree.

  If train tracks had run through Macarthur Point, the homes where Sam and Lachlan grew up would have been on the other side from where Mitchell and Jordan grew up before they moved in with the Simpsons. It was almost inconceivable that Sam and Lachie would look at Jordan or Mitchell, let alone become friends with them, but a mutual love of footy had forged a lifetime friendship between the four young men. A friendship that remained to this day, over twenty-five years later.

  Uninvited, Jordan opened the back door and entered, followed by the dogs. He called out a greeting before heading into the kitchen. He came out to the deck moments later with a beer and a packet of corn chips.

  ‘Hey, bro.’

  Mitchell lifted his beer in a return greeting. ‘Hey. Where’d you find those?’ he asked, pointing to the corn chips.

  ‘In your pantry. You been shopping?’

  Mitchell shook his head. ‘Nope. But Beth was over earlier.’ He didn’t need to elaborate.

  ‘She spoils you rotten.’ Jordan lived in town and Beth spoiled him as much as she did Mitchell and they both knew it.

  ‘You hear me complaining?’

  ‘What are you going to do when she turns up her toes?’

  Mitchell shrugged. ‘I dunno. Trade her in for a newer model?’

  Beth would flick them across the backside with a tea towel if she ever heard them speak that way, then she’d laugh uproariously as if it was the best thing she’d heard all day. Beth always joked about what would happen when her time was up—she reckoned they wouldn’t know how to live without her. She was right.

  ‘You could find yourself a wife,’ Jordan suggested.

  Mitchell rolled his eyes. Ever since he’d met Liz, Jordan had been consumed with matchmaking.

  ‘I don’t need a wife.’

  Jordan raised his beer in the air. ‘Wife. Girlfriend. Partner. Whatever. You don’t have to marry her. But you need a companion. People like you and me need someone, Mitch. Besides, some romance would do you good. Might soften you up.’

  ‘I have my dogs.’

  ‘What? They keep you warm in your bed at night?’

  Mitchell grinned as he rubbed Indy’s head. ‘You ever slept beside a Berner?’

  ‘Nope. And I don’t intend to.’ Jordan shuddered.

  ‘You hungry?’ Mitchell asked, changing the subject. He needed to stop this melancholic carry-on and ignore the feelings of loneliness that kept pushing themselves onto him. ‘Beth cooked.’

  ‘Nah. Thanks for the invite, but Lizzie and I have plans tonight.

  ‘Have you heard how Courtney’s doing?’ Mitchell asked, after downing the last of his beer. He couldn’t believe it when he’d heard she was having triplets. He hadn’t been to see them since they’d come home from hospital, and made a note to pop over there this weekend.

  ‘From what I hear from Lachie, she’s taken to motherhood like a duck to water.’

  ‘Not surprised. She was born to be a mum.’

  ‘Like Margot.’

  ‘And Beth.’

  They were quiet for a while. It was one of the things Mitchell appreciated most about Jordan. He never felt the need to fill the silence which often fell between them. Lachie and Sam were like that too, which was probably why the relationship between the four men was still rock solid.

  Jordan eventually shifted in his seat and something in the way he stared at Mitchell made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He’d had a feeling Jordan hadn’t just dropped by unannounced for no reason.

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘I just found out Hope Rossi is back in town.’

  Mitchell froze. Hope was back?

  ‘It’s been a while,’ Jordan said.

  ‘It has,’ Mitchell agreed, willing his heart rate to settle and his brain to kick back into gear.

  Hope had only been back to Macarthur Point once or twice in the last fifteen or so years but each time, for various reasons, their paths hadn’t crossed. Why was she here now? He reached for his beer, avoiding eye contact with Jordan. He was caught off guard—not by Jordan’s announcement but by the realisation fluttering through him that if his heart was pounding this hard, it must mean he still had feelings for her.

  Suddenly hot, he ran his hand around the base of his neck. ‘Is she here for the weekend?’ Mitchell tried to sound as nonchalant as possible but judging by the look in Jordan’s face, he’d failed.

  ‘Nah. Apparently she’s staying a while. She’s come to help Courtney with the babies and look after Margot after her surgery.’

  Mitchell’s head snapped up. ‘That could be weeks.’

  Jordan nodded. ‘Yeah. According to Lachie, she’s here anywhere from six weeks to six months.’

  Mitchell swallowed. Thank goodness Lachie had told Jordan that Hope was here. That gave Mitchell time to get his head around seeing her again and work out what to say when they did bump into each other, which was a given with the size of the town and their mutual friends.

  He took a swig of his beer and closed his eyes as memories of Hope flooded his mind.

  It was true what people said: the first love is the strongest. It was true because he’d never loved anyone—except Hope Rossi.

  Problem was, he’d stuffed it up with her.

  For years after Hope left Macarthur Point, he’d daydreamed of travelling the world in search of her, but it had been a fool’s dream—he hadn’t even possessed a passport until a few years ago. Yet he’d imagined walking through the streets of a slum in India and bumping into her. Or pictured how they’d spot each other across a crowded marketplace in Thailand. Or in an orphanage in Africa. Her eyes would widen as she’d stare at him in disbelief. She’d recognise him instantly.

  He’d instantly recognise her too. She’d be cuter than ever. And single.

  Over the years, he’d dreamed about their reunion so often it had almost become real. He could imagine the comedy-like double-take as her swimming-pool-blue eyes widened before her face broke into a wide
grin. She’d be on her feet walking towards him, arms open wide before he’d remember to breathe.

  In his dream they’d run to each other and he’d crush her to him and declare she had a piece of his heart and that he’d searched the world to claim it back. She’d throw her head back and laugh and declare he hadn’t changed a bit. She’d tell him he was still a soppy romantic. They’d find somewhere to sit and for the next couple of hours they’d drink and eat and laugh and talk and catch up on all the lost years.

  She’d ask what he was doing in India or Thailand or Africa or wherever it was he’d finally found her.

  ‘Looking for you,’ he’d reply.

  ‘After all these years?’ she’d ask incredulously.

  ‘I’ve never forgotten you,’ he’d say.

  ‘Aw, that’s so sweet.’ She’d blush and use her straw to swirl the ice in her glass before looking steadily and seriously at him and asking him again what he was really doing there.

  ‘I’ve come to find the missing piece of my heart,’ he’d repeat.

  Jordan kicked him in the shin with the toe of his shoe and he jumped.

  ‘Are you listening to me?’ Jordan asked.

  Mitchell shook his head and memories of Hope evaporated like fog when the sun came out. ‘Sorry, what were you saying?’

  ‘I mention Hope Rossi’s name and you space out. What’s the big deal?’

  Mitchell scowled. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Yeah right. Doesn’t look like nothing.’

  Mitchell kept his mouth shut. Until Jordan mentioned her, he’d assumed the feelings he’d once had for her had faded over time. Clearly not, judging by the way his pulse was racing. Those feelings for Hope were still there. Very much there. Which might be a problem.

  Jordan peered at him. ‘There was something special between you and Hope. Bit like Court and Lachie, don’t you think? I always thought you’d end up together.’

  Mitchell shook his head. ‘Nah. Never would have worked.’

  He’d never told anyone about what happened the final night she was in town. Unless Hope had told Courtney, no one knew except the two of them. And he intended to keep it that way. He’d hurt Hope dreadfully and in return had been hurt. There was no way he wanted to rehash the past mistakes he’d made. Nor make them again.

  ‘Only reason it never worked was because you were too scared to open yourself up and risk getting hurt,’ Jordan said.

  ‘For bloody good reason,’ Mitchell growled.

  Jordan should know that. His upbringing was as bad as Mitchell’s. Trusting people didn’t come easily and it was one of the reasons he’d chosen to become a vet. Pets were so much easier to deal with than people.

  ‘That’s in the past, mate. You need to get over it. You’ve been dodging relationships and avoiding settling down your entire life all because of your childhood.’ Jordan leaned down to pat Indy. ‘I don’t know all the details of what happened when you were younger, and I know you were bounced around more foster places than me, but it’s time you learned to let people in. You have to trust someone.’

  Mitchell gave a non-committal grunt, hopefully indicating the conversation was over.

  Jordan stood; message received. He collected the empty bottles. ‘Why don’t I call Court and arrange for all of us to have dinner next week? It’d be great to have most of the old gang back together. It was such a shame Hope never came back to stay with the Hobbs’s after she finished school.’

  ‘She got sick, remember?’

  Jordan nodded slowly as if the pieces of the puzzle were fitting together. ‘Yeah, that’s right. Cancer. I forgot that.’

  ‘And she lost her leg,’ Mitchell added. When he’d first heard about her cancer and amputation, he’d been devastated for her. At the time he’d wanted to contact her, but he’d chickened out, not having a clue what to say or do. Then he’d left it too long to call her without it being awkward.

  ‘Yeah. Jeez.’

  A long beat of silence fell between them and Mitchell allowed the past to rush in. When he first showed an interest in Hope, her Uncle John and Aunt Margot had grilled Mitchell as though they didn’t know him from a bar of soap, despite the fact he’d almost spent more time at their house over the years than he had at his own.

  It was funny the way the normally genial parents of one of his best mates changed their tune when they found out he wanted to date Hope. Mitchell went from being the friend of their son, Sam, to the man who might potentially hurt their precious niece and it had taken a bit to convince them he was up for the task of taking care of Hope. Shame he’d failed.

  Memories swirled around him: licking ice-cream cones as they walked on the beach, the way her hand always felt so warm and smooth in his, how beautiful she’d looked with her hair whipping wildly in the wind. And to that fateful night at the beach.

  He pushed the images aside, refusing to let nostalgia carry him away. He couldn’t afford to dwell on the past or he’d get caught up in it like a rip.

  ‘Anyway,’ Jordan continued, ‘who knows, maybe you and Hope might hit it off again.’

  ‘No.’ He couldn’t afford to break her heart again. Or his.

  Thankfully Jordan dropped the subject.

  After finishing his beer and upending the last of the packet of corn chips into his mouth, Jordan checked his watch. ‘I’d better fly, or I’ll be late.’

  They man-hugged and back-slapped before Jordan loped off to his car.

  After he was gone, Mitchell stuck one of the meals Beth had left him into the microwave. He stared at the spinning plate as thoughts spun in his head.

  Seventeen years. He wondered whether Hope remembered that night as clearly as he did. With any luck she might have forgotten it and relegated it to the back of her mind. He was undecided on whether it was worth pursuing a friendship with her again. Maybe it was better and easier to let things stay as they were. No doubt she’d changed dramatically from the teenager he’d fallen in love with. Cancer, then losing her leg. What were you supposed to say to someone who’d gone through all that at eighteen?

  The microwave dinged, and he opened the door and pulled out his meal, more confused than ever. He needed to forget about the past. There was no point dwelling on one night no matter how incredible it had been.

  Grabbing the remote for the television he put his feet up on the couch and immersed himself in a home renovation show.

  Later, when he climbed into bed, as tired as he was, sleep was hard to find, and he had no answers to the questions pinging around in his head.

  Hope was back, and he had no idea what to do about it.

  He was good at a lot of things, but relationships wasn’t one of them. And even if he miraculously mastered the mysterious art of romancing a woman, did he deserve a second chance with Hope after what he’d done?

  Chapter 5

  Hope was startled awake the next morning from a dream-fuelled slumber by the sound of a whimper. She forced her eyes open. It was pitch-black and for a split second she had no idea where she was. The sound of crying grew louder, and she remembered.

  The Anchorage.

  She stared at the glowing red numbers on the digital clock on the bedside table. Three-sixteen. A second cry joined the first and footsteps padded down the hallway past her room. She debated getting up, but Courtney had said while Lachie was still home, Hope could stay in bed. Once he went back to his work schedule, Courtney would need all Hope’s help, especially for the middle of the night feeds and nappy changes.

  She snuggled back under the heavy covers and listened to the patter of rain against the window. The weather had turned nasty overnight. After dinner, she’d sat watching a home renovation show on television with Margot and after Margot turned in, Hope had tried to read but was so tired the words had blurred on the screen. Eventually, just after ten-thirty, when the house was finally quiet, she showered, got into bed and was asleep before she knew it.

  She rolled over onto her side and tried to catch the fragments of her d
reams. Lachie had been in them. And Mitch. She exhaled slowly and failed to quell the rush of heat to her cheeks. After all these years, he’d returned to her dreams and all it had taken was returning to Macarthur Point.

  Turning her pillow over, she focused on her breathing until she finally drifted back to sleep.

  The next time she woke it was to the smell of coffee. She checked the time again. Seven-thirty-five. A much more civilised hour.

  Swinging her legs out of bed she hopped to the ensuite. After a shower she went through her familiar routine of putting on her prosthetic leg before throwing on some clothes and slipping her feet into Ugg boots. She didn’t bother with makeup and simply pulled her hair into its usual messy topknot. Courtney and the babies wouldn’t care what she looked like.

  After making the bed she opened the curtains. A stunning sunrise painted the sky a palette of bright blue and hot pink. She wasn’t a morning person, but it was worth getting up to see that.

  She rounded the corner into the expansive kitchen. A collection of pots hung over the centre island from a suspended timber frame. The country-cottage look worked well with the grey shaker-style cabinets and marble counters. It was a lovely room, lit by flooding sunlight from French doors overlooking the garden. She’d always loved this part of the house.

  Lachie was there, already dressed, making coffee. ‘Good morning. How’d you sleep?’

  ‘Like a baby,’ she said.

  He chuckled. ‘Once you’ve had kids, you’ll learn that statement makes no sense. We were up every hour,’ he explained, ‘and I don’t think either of us slept more than about three hours each in total. Between feeds and nappy changes and burping, you finally get one of them to sleep and another one wakes up and wants to be fed and burped and changed. It’s a never-ending cycle.’

  Guilt wormed through her. ‘Sorry Lachie, I could have helped. You should have woken me. That’s why I’m here. I heard them cry sometime around three, then I fell asleep again and didn’t hear another thing.’

  ‘It’s all good. We wanted you to have at least one night of sleep. I’m heading off to Geelong this morning for the next three days so you’re it.’ He passed her a cup of coffee like it was a baton. ‘I hope you’re up to it.’