The only time Hope and her parents had stayed put for longer than a year was when Hope was eighteen and they moved back from Africa to Melbourne for Hope’s treatment. It had nearly killed them. They hated living in suburbia and couldn’t wait to pack up and move overseas again.
Hope remembered the three long years they spent in Melbourne after her chemotherapy, radiation, surgery and rehab. Instead of the freedom and excitement of living in various countries in all different types of communities, they found themselves stuck in a cookie-cutter apartment in the centre of Melbourne so they could be close to the hospital for doctor’s appointments.
Instead of the fluidity of the life Hope had led up to that point, she found herself stuck in a rigid routine that she hated. With every passing week and every milestone, she achieved in her recovery, she found it harder to breathe and vowed she’d never stay too long in one place.
Hope poured herself another glass of water.
‘I get a sense there’s something you’re not telling me,’ Courtney said.
‘We kissed.’
Courtney’s mouth fell open. ‘You what? After he told you he had a girlfriend?’
Hope shook her head. ‘That’s why it was so awkward.’ Fresh hurt churned Hope’s gut and the prick of tears filled her eyes.
‘Do you think you still have feelings for him?’ Courtney asked.
Through tears, Hope nodded. What was the point in denying how she’d felt seeing Mitchell again? But equally, what was the point in caring about that?
‘It doesn’t matter how I feel. Even if Mitchell was single and I was still in love with him, it’s not worth pursuing something that’s not going to go anywhere.’
Courtney shook her head. ‘I disagree. It’s always worth pursuing something when you know it’s right.’
Hope sighed. ‘How do I know it’s right?’
‘You know.’
Chapter 11
On Monday night Mitchell closed the clinic early because storms were forecast to hit town later that night. He stopped at the traffic lights—one of only three sets in town—and looked left and then right. Not a car in sight. The sunny spring weather they’d enjoyed over the weekend was gone, replaced by gusty wind and rain. Everyone was probably tucked up inside in front of their heaters again. He waited at the lights and when they turned green, he accelerated slowly through the intersection, skirting the shops as he headed to the supermarket to do his weekly shopping.
The weather always changed quickly this time of year as if it were bipolar. Just when everyone was ready to pack away their winter woollens, winter gave one last trumpet blast and had everyone scurrying for beanies and coats again.
The day had dawned with an incredible sunrise and pastel blue skies and he’d been up to see it, running with the dogs on the beach before work, but by nine o’clock fluffy clouds had rolled in from the west. By lunchtime the clouds had turned thick and grey and menacing. Now they swirled and twisted as the wind rose, whistling and whipping through the branches in the Norfolk pines. The gauge on the Jeep indicated the temperature had plummeted six degrees in the past few hours. If this kept up, they’d get snow in the Otways for sure.
As he got out of his car in the supermarket car park, thunder rumbled menacingly overhead. Near the entrance he saw two cops chatting with a small group of middle-aged men, probably from the local Rotary club. Mitchell smiled. No doubt they were discussing the weather which is all everyone had been talking about all day.
‘You going to sign up?’ the younger female police officer asked as he tried to skirt past them. He wasn’t interested in raffle tickets, if that’s what they were selling.
Mitchell stopped. ‘Sign up for what?’
The older cop stepped in. ‘Fun run. Called Zoe’s Fight. It’s for a local kid with brain cancer.’ He showed Mitchell a photo of a gorgeous girl before cancer had ravaged her. ‘You sign up then get people to sponsor you for every kilometre you run.’
‘Sounds like a good idea to me. When is it?’
‘End of November.’
Mitchell shrugged. He wasn’t much of a runner, but it would be good to have something to train for. ‘Sure. I’ll sign up.’
‘Good on you, mate.’
‘No worries,’ Mitchell replied. It was things like this that made living in a small town worth it. When tragedy struck, everyone dug deep to help.
He was about to enter the supermarket when the tantalising smell of sausages and cooked onions stopped him. If he ate a snag now, he wouldn’t have to use one of Beth’s meals in his fridge.
‘Nasty weather expected later tonight,’ the man turning the sausages on the barbecue said.
‘Yeah. Not unusual this time of year though,’ Mitchell replied.
‘One or two?’ the man asked.
‘Just one. With onions.’
‘And sauce?’
‘Yes, please.’
He wolfed down the sausage as thunder grumbled again. A motorbike sped past, leaving a blast of exhaust fumes in its wake. The older cop nodded to the younger one and she jogged back to the police car, probably grateful for something to do out of the cold.
Lightning flashed.
The man shrugged. ‘It’ll probably blow over tonight and be sunny again tomorrow.’
Mitchell looked up at the dark clouds. A bird fought the updrafts, pushed around by the force of the wind.
‘Hope so.’
Seconds later, thunder boomed, and he flinched.
‘Getting closer,’ the cop called out, chuckling at Mitchell’s reaction.
With a laugh and a wave, Mitchell entered the supermarket. It was a modern building set on a corner block close to where the river ran into the sea. A dozen aisles offered everything anyone needed from groceries to toiletries, from beer to bread. Grabbing a trolley, he began loading it with fruit and vegetables. Beth would be proud.
He spotted Hope before she saw him. His heart contracted with a swift and urgent need to go and apologise again for kissing her, but he held back. He was an idiot at times, but he had some common sense. An apology in the chocolate aisle was the last thing she needed.
He followed at a distance, watching her read her list, placing items in the trolley as if she had all the time in the world. She had no idea how gorgeous she was.
He was debating whether to go and at least say a casual ‘G’day’, when a guy Mitchell knew by sight, but not name, rounded the corner and approached her.
Hope had her head down and didn’t see him and when he tapped her on the shoulder, she jumped and let out a squeal.
Mitchell frowned. Hope had never feared anything or anybody. Maybe she was spooked because of the storm.
‘... give you a hand if you like.’ Mitchell overhead the guy saying.
Hope shook her head.
He tried again. ‘Name’s Dylan. Looks like you’re feeding a family. Or just stocking up in case the storm hits?’
Mitchell glanced into Hope’s trolley. Indeed, it looked like she was feeding the proverbial five thousand, but it was none of Dylan’s business.
Hope was doing her best to ignore Dylan. Her body language screamed “leave me alone”. Clearly, she wanted to do her groceries in peace and this idiot had zero ability to read the clear signals she was giving out.
‘You in town long?’ Dylan asked.
Hope studied the ingredients of a packet mix cake like it held the recipe for salvation.
‘Any chance I could take you out for dinner some time?’
Hope spun to look at Dylan, her face darker than the gathering clouds outside. ‘No!’
From the end of the aisle where he stood unseen, Mitchell silently cheered for her. Good for you, Hope. He loved that she didn’t even feel the need to apologise for turning the bloke down.
Hope steered her trolley to the registers and began unloading her groceries from the trolley onto the belt.
Dylan was clearly more of an idiot than Mitchell. He started helping her and with a scowl, Hope took a
bag of rice from his hands.
‘I don’t need your help but thank you.’
Mitchell felt himself smile. She was polite, but direct. He hovered close, still out of sight, in case he needed to step in, but knowing Hope would be furious if he did.
Whether it was just the storm outside or the overbearing bloke next to her, Mitchell wasn’t sure but if this guy didn’t back off soon, he’d be left with no option than to interrupt, regardless of how Hope might react to his intervention. Mitchell’s intentions were pure. Dylan’s were evidently not.
It wasn’t that he was jealous—he just wasn’t the kind of guy to stand by and watch someone twice Hope’s size hassle her or intimidate her. Call it gallantry, chivalry, or whatever. He called it common sense—the kind of thing you did for a mate. And the fact he wanted more than mateship with Hope didn’t matter.
He had to step in.
Still, he hesitated, watching for a moment longer. There was something in the way Hope moved that troubled him—as if something had scared her.
Lightning flashed and thunder cracked almost instantly, before settling into a low, angry rumble. Wind whipped rain against the building. The doors whooshed open and an older man rushed in, shaking out his upturned umbrella.
‘Wow, that came from nowhere,’ he announced loudly to anyone who was listening. He wiped at his sleeves and rivulets of water ran down his arms pooling on the floor.
Thunder boomed again, so loudly the windows seemed to rattle in their frames. Hope jumped and stared outside. Rain ran in sheets down the glass.
‘What did you say your name was?’ Dylan asked. He stood behind her, leaning over her shoulder. ‘I see you’re not wearing a wedding ring. Single?’
Okay. Enough was enough. Mitchell stepped closer, his hackles up, his own trolley of groceries forgotten somewhere in aisle five.
All his plans to be nothing more than Hope’s friend went out the window, but he stopped when he saw the fury written across Hope’s face.
She stared at Dylan, pulling herself up tall, shoulders back, chin jutted forward. ‘My name is none of your business.’ Her voice carried clearly over the sound of the storm. ‘And you, Dylan, are harassing me. If you don’t leave me alone, I will report you to the police outside.’
Dylan’s expression changed, and his eyes darkened, but he didn’t budge.
Something inside Mitchell snapped. He stepped in and put a hand on Dylan’s arm. ‘You heard her. Leave her alone.’
Dylan pulled his arm from Mitchell’s grip. ‘What’s it to you mate?’
‘Nothing, mate. I’m just telling you to leave her alone. She’s not interested.’
‘Yeah. Whatever.’ Dylan slunk off.
Mitchell turned around to make sure Hope was okay, but there was no sign of her. Nothing but a trolley half filled with bags of packed groceries, a conveyor belt of food and a checkout guy standing there with his mouth open.
Damn. He shouldn’t have intervened. Hope had always valued her independence.
He raced outside, quickly scanning the car park. Thunder grumbled and cold, heavy drops of rain landed on him in heavy splats. Each drop was larger than a fifty-cent piece.
A woman hurried past, bags of shopping in each hand, two girls in netball uniforms trailing behind her squealing with each flash of lightning. He continued across the carpark to his car, the rain heavier now, plastering his clothes to his skin.
Lightning exploded in the dark sky above him as thunder shook the ground. The storm was right on top of them. Where was Hope? He couldn’t see any cars moving. Pulling his jacket over his head, he sprinted to his car. Wind lashed itself around him and before he’d even made it to his car he was soaked through to the skin.
It was so dark now he had to switch on his headlights. He drove slowly out of the car park with his windscreen wipers going as fast as they could. He scanned left to right. It was almost impossible to see out his windshield but there was no sign of any cars or people. No sign of Hope. Where had she gone? He circled the block but didn’t see Hope or her car.
The storm was in full fury and showing no signs of letting up. Trees whipped from side to side and when a branch landed behind his car, blocking the road behind him, his heart almost stopped. He drove up the main street, did a U-turn and drove back to the supermarket, leaning forward over the steering wheel looking for her, but it was as if she’d vanished.
He was about to give up his search and head back to the supermarket to finish his shopping when he spotted a figure darting between buildings, trying to stay undercover. His chest tightened. Why was she walking? Where was her car? She had no chance of staying dry in this weather. The wind was driving the rain against her in furious waves and she had to be freezing.
He pulled alongside her and tooted the horn. She jumped and started walking faster, her head and shoulders bent into the sideways rain, her limp more pronounced than he’d seen it. Lightning flashed like a strobe light.
He wound down his window, not caring that the interior of his Jeep was getting drenched.
‘Hope!’ he yelled.
No response.
‘Come on, Hope. Get in the car. I’ll drive you home.’
Hope shook her head. ‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘You can’t walk in this. It’s not safe.’
Thunder boomed overhead. He stopped the car, pulled on the handbrake and got out, coming around the front of the car to meet her head on. He ducked his head to look at her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, splintering his heart. What the hell was wrong? Was she upset because that Dylan guy had hassled her, or because he’d intervened? Perhaps she was freaked out by the storm?
Her skin was devoid of colour, her teeth chewing so hard on her bottom lip he wouldn’t be surprised if she drew blood. For a moment he considering wrapping his arms around her, but judging by the fear in her eyes, the likelihood of her wanting a hug right now was zero percent.
He took her hand. It was icy.
‘Come on, Hope, let me help you. Hop in the car. We’re both getting soaked.’
Lightning flickered again, and thunder cracked in the air above them. She glanced up, then without a word, bolted for his car. Relief swept through him.
Once inside the car he cranked the heater up and turned on the seat warmer for her. He didn’t say a word, sensing she needed a moment to gather herself. Beside him, Hope shed silent tears. Rain sheeted against the windows making his wipers next to useless. He put the car into gear and drove slowly down the street trying to work out what to say.
A short while later, after a few loud sniffs, Hope stopped crying. He found a tissue in the centre console and handed it to her. She took it without a word and blew her nose. He opened his mouth and closed it again. He had no words to put into a sentence that would make sense, let alone trust that they would be the right words to say.
After another sniff and another blow of her nose, Hope sighed. ‘I’m sorry.’
Her voice was so soft he had to strain to hear it against the thrumming of the rain on the roof. He wiped the condensation from the front windscreen with the back of his hand to buy time before answering her. Why was she sorry? She wasn’t the one who should be apologising.
‘I didn’t think the weather would be like this when I left Courtney’s,’ she said.
‘It came from nowhere,’ he agreed.
He allowed himself to relax a fraction. Perhaps Hope was just scared of storms and that’s why she’d freaked out. He fiddled with the air vents and the windows started to de-fog.
Hope didn’t say another word until he pulled up in the circular driveway out the front of The Anchorage.
Her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘I’m sorry about your car, Mitch. I’ve made a mess of your leather seats.’
‘Don’t be sorry. I’m as wet as you.’
‘I’m sorry for that too.’
He frowned. ‘No need to apologise, Hope. You’ve done nothing wrong.’
She made no move to get out of th
e car and heavy, uncomfortable silence blanketed the space between them. His stomach clenched. If only he knew what to say to ease the tension.
‘At least the storm’s passing,’ he said finally. ‘My dogs will be happy. They hate thunder.’
‘I know how they feel.’
More silence. ‘Would you like me to go back to the supermarket and get your groceries?’ he asked. ‘I’m sure they bagged them up and they’re waiting for you. Or if you give me the list, I’ll make sure I get everything for you.’
She turned slowly. ‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘I’d like to,’ he said softly. ‘That’s what friends do.’
She put her hand on the door handle. ‘Thanks.’
Mitchell caught her wrist gently in his fingers to stop her from getting out of the car. It’s going to be okay,’ he said, having no idea whether that was actually true.
A flicker of something crossed her face before it was gone.
She opened the passenger side door and closed it behind her, bolting for the house without a backward glance and before he had a chance to get out of the car and help her.
He closed his eyes and tried to gather control of the emotions tumbling through him. He exhaled heavily.
Before he drove away, he pulled out his phone and sent Courtney a quick text message to let her know what happened. Then he sank back into his seat and stared through the rain drops at the closed front door.
How was he supposed to convince a woman who didn’t want his assistance that he still wanted to help her?
Chapter 12
Hope closed the front door, leaned back against it and took a deep breath to get rid of the strange feelings in her chest. She’d felt nothing for Mitchell for years and suddenly, to her ire, attraction had risen from the ashes, causing a giddy heartbeat and a stirring in her gut she hadn’t experienced for a long time.
Holding onto Hope Page 10
