‘I reckon she thinks you’re all right,’ Charlie had said.
He thought she was all right too.
‘You should marry that girl,’ Charlie had told him.
Pity he didn’t believe in marriage any more. Sam chuckled and it surprised him. His old man would get a kick out of thinking he was still telling him what to do even when he was dead.
That thought pulled him up. Charlie was dead. His father was gone. Sam was all that was left of the Hunter family.
Which meant Roo’s Rest would be his.
He just had to get through the next day. He’d just have to get through the funeral and the wake.
And he knew he could do it with Calla by his side.
Then he could think about what to do.
CHAPTER
45
Calla was ready when Sam pulled up out front of her cottage at six-thirty the next morning. Even though she was notoriously not a morning person, she’d been wide awake for an hour already, and had been ready, waiting in the hallway by her front door for ten long minutes when he arrived. She’d dressed simply and respectfully, black pants and a black jumper, with sturdy black boots. She had a vintage woollen coat with her, ready for the wind and the cold over on the island. Her suitcase was packed and standing upright by the front door, its handle extended and ready to roll.
If only she was.
She hated funerals. Had been to too many. Her mother’s five years before, and her father’s a couple of years ago. A colleague who’d died too young of breast cancer. A neighbour’s husband, who’d been knocked off his bike and killed. A child from one of her art classes, who’d had a fatal asthma attack. Was it any surprise she was a glass-half-empty girl?
And now she was about to cross the water to a magical island and be there for Sam when he buried his father. If only she could conjure up some useful hints to stop the sobbing, for she knew she would be a mess. She wasn’t made of strong stuff when it came to death. She felt the sadness of it, and the pain of the people left behind. But she had to hold it together, for Sam. For Charlie.
There was a quiet knock on her front door. She took a deep breath and opened it.
‘Hi.’ Sam tried to smile and it cut her in two. He looked tired, the dark smudges under his eyes suggesting he hadn’t slept. He was dressed in black too: a suit, with a white shirt and a dark-grey tie.
She opened her mouth to speak but stopped when he stepped forward. He reached out to her, held her shoulders with a firm grip and kissed her softly on the cheek. She closed her eyes as he pressed his cool lips to her skin.
‘Is this everything?’ he asked.
‘Yes, just the suitcase.’ She reached for the handle but he got there first. She lifted her coat off the case and draped it over her arm.
As Sam pulled it over the front step and down the front path, the wheels rumbling on the pavers, he looked back over his shoulder with a question on his face. ‘You know we’re only staying for one night, right?’
‘Yes.’ She let herself smile at him, taking his cue and going with the flow to lighten the mood. This was going to be a hard day for him, she knew, and a laugh might be just what he wanted from her right now.
‘So what’s with the enormous suitcase?’
She wasn’t ready to tell him the real reason, what was packed inside in layers of bubble wrap. So she fudged it. ‘Give me a break. I’m a girl.’
‘I noticed,’ he said with a smile.
‘I need stuff. It’s all my shoes and make-up and ball gowns.’
That got a laugh and Calla felt a little of the tension lift from her shoulders.
Sam walked ahead of her through the front gate, opened the back of his four-wheel drive and lifted the bag inside. Calla locked her front door and walked to the car. When she got there, he was standing beside the open passenger door. She climbed in to the cabin and he closed the door behind her.
Sam got in, started the car. The engine hummed to life and he turned to her. ‘I hope you’ve got some wine stashed in that suitcase.’
‘Sam,’ she sighed. ‘You don’t think we’ll be able to buy wine on the island?’
Sam checked his rear-vision mirror with a grin and pulled his car into the street. As they hit South Road, the main highway that would take them all the way to Cape Jervis and the ferry terminal, he pointed to the stereo. ‘You can choose some music if you want. It’ll take us a couple of hours to get to the boat.’
‘I don’t need music,’ Calla replied. ‘I’m fine.’ She had what she needed. She had Sam all to herself. His voice in her head. His smile when he looked at her. She could now simply sit back and let him lead the way. And she could reach out and touch him any time she wanted.
They drove awhile in silence; the early morning traffic on the Southern Expressway was heading into the city rather than away from it.
‘Thanks for this,’ he finally said. ‘For coming with me.’
Calla reached across the centre console to touch his arm. ‘Can’t say it’ll be the best date I’ve ever had but, you know, beggars can’t be choosers.’
That made him laugh, his booming voice filling the cabin and reaching right inside her. That’s what she’d wanted to do: make him laugh. She could do comic relief, and had the feeling it was exactly what he needed right now. She didn’t want him to feel as if the whole day was a funeral procession.
‘Hey, I forgot something.’ Sam checked the road ahead and then reached over her knees and pressed open the glove box. He rifled around inside.
‘Thought you might need this.’ He pulled out a lollipop, a cellophane-wrapped sphere on a white stick, and handed it to Calla.
She took it from him, her fingers brushing against his as she did. Their eyes met. ‘You really are my hero, you know that?’
A couple of hours later, they were on the boat. Sam had driven his vehicle into the hold and found Calla at a table upstairs. He’d suggested she be as near as possible to the deck, just in case. Outside, the blue sky shone and the placid ocean was making for a settled crossing. Inside, the cabin was bustling with people. Islanders going home. Tourists, grey nomads. The truck drivers whose job it was to haul cargo back and forth to the mainland.
Sam studied her across the table. He was looking for signs of seasickness but got totally distracted by how beautiful she was. Instead of looking for pale skin, he saw softness and faint freckles under almost-there make-up. Her face wasn’t clenched as if she were trying to block out the view; rather, she was looking at him with clear eyes and there was even a laugh in them. Her hands weren’t clutched to her stomach, but she was holding her phone, studying a shot she’d just taken of him across the table. She’d snapped it so quickly he hadn’t realised she’d done it until he saw her smile emerge as she lowered her smartphone.
Calla reached for the white stick of the lollipop she was sucking and pulled the round bauble out of her mouth. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t mind.’ Sam rested his elbows on the table. ‘You feeling okay?’
Calla nodded reassuringly. ‘Sucking this thing really works. I don’t feel sick at all,’ she said before putting it back in her mouth.
Sam smiled to himself. He noticed her tongue was red. And her lips. He decided not to mention either. He liked the distraction of staring at them. ‘It’s not that rough today.’
Calla glanced out the window. ‘Thank god,’ she mumbled and the little white stick moved from one side of her lips to the other.
‘Don’t worry, I was planning to be a little more sympathetic this time,’ Sam said as he glanced out the windows to his right. ‘The first time we met, I thought you were a German backpacker. I wasn’t even sure you spoke English.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah.’ Had it really only been two weeks since they’d met? There was no way that could be true. How was it possible that they’d come this far, learnt so much about each other, come to lean on each other, in so little time? He knew who she was. And sh
e seemed to know him. He’d let her in, bit by bit, secret by secret, until it seemed the most natural thing in the world to be travelling back to the island with her for Charlie’s funeral.
Calla looked at him thoughtfully. Pulled the lollipop out of her mouth again. Her lips formed an ‘o’ as she did it. ‘That explains a lot.’
Sam squirmed in his seat. His shirt collar suddenly felt tight on his throat and he jammed a finger inside it. ‘It does?’
‘Yeah. There I was, a damsel in distress, and you didn’t even talk to me. I wondered why. You looked at me really strangely and just kind of shoved me out the door.’ She nodded in the direction of the deck. ‘I thought you were kind of rude, to be honest.’ Her warm smile undercut her words.
‘I was worried you were going to puke. Specifically, all over me.’
‘Wouldn’t that be a story to tell?’ Calla picked up her phone, held it to her ear and said, ‘Hey Rose, I met this great guy on the boat going over to Kangaroo Island. Yeah, very handsome. Tall. Uh huh. Did he ask for my number? No, not after I vomited all over him.’
Sam looked at her, amusement brightening his eyes. ‘That would definitely have killed the mood.’
‘You’re telling me,’ Calla said with a laugh.
Sam leant in closer. ‘You want to know a secret?’
‘What?’ Calla’s eyes widened.
He looked at her over the tops of his sunglasses. ‘Probably still would have asked for your number.’
‘You liar.’
He sat back, crossed his arms. ‘You don’t believe me?’
‘Not a word.’
He shrugged. How was she to know he’d always had a thing for damsels in distress?
An hour later, Sam drove up to the Penneshaw pub and pulled up at the kerb. Sam had arranged to meet everyone there: his cousins, Charlie’s friends and neighbours, people from all over the island who he knew would come to pay their respects. It would be a chance to catch up and say thank you, on his own behalf and Charlie’s.
Sam rounded the front of the car and opened Calla’s door and she stepped down. They waited for a moment before going in to face everyone.
Calla was glad of this last moment together. ‘You ready?’ she asked.
‘Nope,’ he said with a sad smile.
She reached for his hand. People inside would probably wonder who the hell she was, might stare and make her feel nervous, but she didn’t care. She would be by Sam’s side for as long as he needed her today. She looked into his eyes and stood on tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips. When her mouth pressed against his, he urged himself forward and pulled her towards him, and her quick peck became something longer and more intimate.
When her feet were planted firmly on the ground again, she whispered, ‘Let’s go.’
The front bar was filled with people, shoulder to shoulder, and the place was bustling with noise. When people realised that Sam and Calla had walked in, the conversations quietened and the crowd parted. Calla felt Sam’s grip on her fingers tighten.
And then Ben cut his way through the gathering and held out his arms to his cousin. They embraced like football players, patting each other on the back a couple of times and then releasing their hold.
‘Mate,’ Ben said, wiping the tears from his eyes.
‘Benny. Thanks for everything.’
‘Forget about it.’
‘Hey, Calla.’ If Ben was surprised to see her there, he didn’t show it. He kissed her on the cheek and she couldn’t help but throw her arms around him.
‘Hi Ben.’
He squeezed her right back and whispered in her ear, ‘Glad you’re here for him.’
And then wave after wave of people approached Sam, the men shaking his hand and the women hugging him. She was introduced a hundred times over, each time with a simple, ‘This is Calla.’ It raised eyebrows and created smiles among his family and friends. And then Sam was swept away from her, pulled to the bar by a couple of guys who looked about his age. Calla hung back, needing time on the edge of the crowd, wanting to give herself time to think. She turned to look out the big windows to the pulsing ocean, sapphire blue today and calm.
‘Calla?’
She turned. ‘Yes?’
A woman, perhaps in her seventies, held out a hand. ‘I’m Ruth. Ben’s mum. Charlie was my brother-in-law.’
‘Oh hello,’ Calla said, shaking hands. ‘It’s very nice to meet you.’ And then she remembered with a shock. ‘Oh god. That means you’re Jessie’s mother.’
The older woman smiled warmly. ‘Yes, I am.’
‘So you know I’m Jem’s sister.’
‘Of course I do,’ she said. ‘I heard you met Ella a week or so ago. Isn’t she a beautiful baby?’
‘Yes, she’s lovely. And I think Jessie’s lovely too. I’m guessing you know all about my family’s … issues … but I want you to know that I’m glad that Jem’s so happy.’
‘He seems to be.’
‘He has a nephew now. Our sister Rose had a little boy last week.’
‘Yes, I heard you had to leave the island rather quickly.’
‘Did Charlie tell you that?’ Saying his name was enough to have tears welling in Calla’s eyes.
‘Yes. We saw him for lunch the day before he died. He talked about you and Sam. He was happy. Life’s precious, and too short to hold on to anger and hurt, don’t you think? That’s what Jessie’s been telling Jem every day since they saw you.’
‘Oh.’
‘They’re here, in case you want to say hello to the baby.’
Calla hesitated. She didn’t want there to be a scene, not here, not today. ‘I don’t know—’
‘Mum!’ It was Jessie, emerging out of the crowd with Ella in her arms. ‘Calla!’ Before Calla knew what was happening, her not-quite-sister-in-law had thrown an arm around her and was hugging her tightly.
‘It’s lovely to see you, Calla. It’s so cool that you’ve come over with Sam. Poor Sam. We’ve all been worried sick about him, being over in Adelaide all alone and having to deal with this. Poor Charlie. Oh god, I’m babbling, aren’t I?’ Jessie pulled a face. ‘Sorry, I’m a little nervous.’
‘Don’t be. I’m not so scary, am I?’
‘Oh god, no,’ Jessie exclaimed.
Ruth reached out for Ella. ‘Let Grandma have a hug.’
‘Jem feels terrible for what happened. It’s hard for him. After you left he told me the whole story. I didn’t know any of it before then. I hope you believe me.’
‘Of course, Jessie, and anyway it’s all right. It’s family stuff. Everyone has it.’
She scanned the crowd for Sam. It wasn’t hard — he was standing taller than everyone in the room except Ben. And at the moment she spotted him, he turned to her. And he came to her, walking through the sea of people, in a beeline to her side. And then he was there, an arm around her, tucking her into him. And she could finally breathe again.
‘I see you’ve met Calla, Auntie Ruth.’
‘Well, I’d heard so much about her from Charlie that I thought I’d better introduce myself. And it seems our families are inextricably linked. The Hunters and the Maloneys.’
Calla blinked. It was true. There wasn’t only the growing connection between her and Sam: her family and his were now anchored together by blood.
Jem walked towards them. Tall, proud, in a grown-up suit. He stood by Jessie’s side, glanced over at Ella in June’s arms and then offered a nod to Calla. ‘Hello.’
CHAPTER
46
‘Hello, Jem,’ Calla said.
Jem managed to smile at her. He stood next to Jessie, looking hesitant. Calla was relieved to see none of the lingering hurt from the week before. Maybe he’d reacted the way he had because she’d turned up out of the blue to see him.
Calla looked at her brother, wondered if she knew who he was any more. And then he looked back at her with a hopeful smile and right there, she had a flicker of memory. That look, that teasing, little-brother-gotcha sm
ile.
They’d been close, but weren’t now. That was life, Calla decided. Most of it was a crapshoot. Most of it was an accident waiting to happen.
Sam’s arm stiffened around her. She leant into him and smiled tentatively at her brother. How did she feel about seeing Jem again?
Not happy, exactly. Angry? No, not any more.
She was at peace, both with her attempt to bring her family back together and Jem’s decision not to be part of her life. She felt a shuddering sigh deep down in her lungs. Her crazy adventure on Kangaroo Island had been worth it. She’d put the complications and the pain behind her. And she and Sam had each other’s backs.
‘I’m good.’ And she was.
‘You remember Sam?’
‘Of course.’ Jem fumbled a hand out of his trouser pocket and reached out to Sam. ‘I’m really sorry about your dad.’
The two men shook hands. ‘Thank you,’ Sam said.
Calla and Auntie Ruth exchanged glances.
‘I only met him a couple of times,’ Jem said. ‘He was a funny bloke.’
‘Yeah, he was,’ Sam said quietly.
‘You painted him,’ Calla said.
Jem stopped, blinked. Looked between Jessie and his sister.
‘Yeah. I did.’ His eyebrows furrowed in a question. ‘How did you know that?’
‘Sam bought the portrait.’
Jem raked a hand through his hair. ‘Shit. Thanks.’
‘It’s a wonderful piece. I’m glad you’re painting.’ Calla hoped Jem could hear the truth in her words. She knew how much it meant to her when she painted: the serenity, the adrenaline rush when it was coming together, the quiet peace it gave her. She hoped it did the same for Jem, after all he’d been through.
‘Me too.’
Calla heard a sniff and then Jessie couldn’t contain herself any longer. She lurched forward and threw her arms around Sam’s waist, crushing her cheek up against his tie. ‘I’m so sorry, Sam. You know how much I loved Uncle Charlie.’
Sam patted Jessie on the back. ‘Funny, he always thought you were a brat.’
Jessie gasped and let go. ‘He did not! Oh,’ she tried to control her wobbling bottom lip, ‘you’re teasing.’
Only We Know Page 28
