Only We Know

by Victoria Purman

  The first thing she did when she was safely back inside was put everything down and pull them on. She sighed in sheer relief.

  Sam looked up from where he was crouching by the fire. His eyes dropped to her feet. ‘I see you packed the essentials.’

  ‘Damn right I did.’ Calla brought the wine over and handed it to Sam, who unscrewed the cork and poured their tumblers full. He’d taken off his suit jacket and tie and was standing there in his crisp white shirt, the sleeves of which were pushed up his strong forearms. Calla took in every inch of him. How was it possible that she was still shivering and he was shedding his clothes? Then she had a thought about how those two things might come together to everyone’s satisfaction.

  He passed a glass to Calla and then held out his own to clink against hers. ‘Here’s to Charlie Hunter.’

  ‘To Charlie.’ Calla tasted the wine, which was warm and earthy and liquorice-tinged. It smoothed down her throat and she felt a warm glow from the inside. She sighed. ‘Oh, that is good.’

  ‘I know,’ Sam said with a grin.

  The fire crackled in the room. The wine was doing its job and Calla felt warmer still when Sam trained his eyes on her, unblinking, direct and open.

  ‘This is where I want to be today, Red. Here. Alone with you. Not at the pub.’

  Her pulse flared. ‘Funerals are hard. I understand.’

  ‘I don’t feel much like being around people right now.’

  ‘But I’m people,’ Calla said softly, checking out his warm feet before running her eyes up his long legs, the hard chest under his white shirt, his shadowed jaw and his mouth.

  ‘You’re my kind of people,’ he said softly. His voice was quiet and deep and it sent rumbles through her.

  ‘I’m glad of that.’

  ‘You know …’ Sam hesitated. ‘Being back here, meeting you, losing Charlie … I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.’

  Calla sipped her wine. ‘I understand. The same thing happened to me when my father died.’

  Sam took a deep breath and it lifted his shoulders. ‘You asked me, back in Adelaide, to tell you the truth about why I didn’t want Roo’s Rest.’ He paused. ‘When Andy died, I was the one who found him.’

  ‘Oh, Sam.’ Oh no.

  ‘After that, I didn’t ever want to come back. I went over to Adelaide and made a life for myself there. But that all went to hell in a hand basket too. The accident I had on the job, the one Charlie told you about? I nearly died that day.’

  Calla really wanted to sit down but she couldn’t move. Didn’t want to leave his side. Warm tears drizzled down her face.

  ‘And for too many years, I kept it all inside. All those secrets about what had happened to me. But they eat at you. So instead of talking about them, I cut myself off from life, a little chunk at a time. I looked for distractions and found them everywhere. I’m not proud of it but I’ll own it. Quick and dirty was easier than mornings after and the truth.’

  Calla took Sam’s hand. ‘Look at my family — at what secrets did to us. I know that’s not a way to live. I want to know everything about you, Sam. If you’ll tell me.’

  ‘I’ve been hiding from them for almost half my life. But I don’t want that any more. I’m ready to start living again, Red. And it’s all your fault.’

  ‘Me? What did I do?’

  He kissed her, soft and gentle. ‘I accused you of it but it was me all along. You made me see that I was the glass-half-empty guy. And also that I was missing out on a lot of good sex.’

  Calla’s heart thumped. ‘Well. I am spectacular.’

  ‘You are.’ He lifted his hand and twisted his fingers in her hair. ‘In every possible way, Red.’

  Calla closed her eyes. She wanted to remember every second of this moment with Sam. His loving face. The smell of the fire, the crackle and hiss of it in the room. The rain on the tin roof above their heads and the smell of grass and the sea. The way the wine was seeping into her soul and how much she wanted his arms around her. How much she loved the man he was. She pressed her lips to his cheek. So warm: so Sam. He put an arm around her waist and held her close.

  ‘I’ll never forget this place, Sam.’ Her own words jogged her memory. ‘Speaking of which.’ She’d left the painting propped against the wall and now put down her drink and picked the parcel up, held it in front of her like a shield. She was a little worried: it had been a long time since she’d let anyone see her work, and the subject was so personal for him.

  ‘This is a present for you,’ she said in a rush.

  ‘You bought me a present? For a funeral?’

  ‘Yes. Well. No. When we were back in Adelaide, I painted this for you so you’d remember Roo’s Rest when it’s gone. I mean, I know you’ll always remember it, but I thought you might like to see it through my eyes. How beautiful and magical it really is.’

  Sam was still. He hadn’t even moved his glass to his lips to drink any more wine.

  Calla found her resolve. ‘You said you’re going to start living again and I’m so happy for you. I know that means selling Roo’s Rest and that’s your decision. I was unkind to you back in Adelaide when I got all huffy about you selling the place. I should know that the dreams and wishes of parents and their children sometimes don’t align.’ She handed him the wrapped painting. ‘So this is my way of saying sorry.’

  He slowly put his glass down on the table and then took the package from her. ‘You really didn’t have to do that.’

  ‘Of course I didn’t. I wanted to. Being here, seeing the farm … seeing the island … it reawakened my senses. Made me see things in myself that I’d hidden away. Compelled me to pick up my paintbrushes again. I don’t know what it is about this place … but it gets to me.’

  Was she brave enough to say what came next? ‘And you get to me too, Sam.’

  He stopped unwrapping, met her eyes. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘There’s something here between us.’

  ‘You bet your arse there is,’ he said.

  ‘I didn’t want there to be. But, Sam Hunter, I’ve got the hots for you, big time.’

  He stared at her as if she’d gone mad. And then nerves about how he’d react when he saw the painting bubbled up in her throat. ‘Oh for god’s sake. Open the damn present, will you?’

  In slow motion, Sam pulled the packaging away. When he saw what it was, he stared at it for a long moment. ‘You really didn’t have to do this,’ he repeated with a shake of his head.

  ‘You said that already. Do you like it?’

  ‘It’s incredible. It’s the dam. This is exactly what it looked like the day I took you there, that first time.’ He smiled up at her. ‘When I kissed you.’

  Calla rolled her eyes. ‘When you almost didn’t.’

  Sam grinned. ‘I was always gunna kiss you, Red.’ He looked at the painting again and then back at her. ‘What I meant was that you didn’t have to do this for me to remember Roo’s Rest. I’m keeping it.’

  ‘I damn well hope so. My blood, sweat and tears are in that painting.’

  ‘I mean Roo’s Rest. I’m not selling.’

  ‘You’re not?’

  He laid the painting on the sofa, gently. Turned to her. ‘I wanted to tell you here. Roo’s Rest is part of me. A part of who I am and who I want to be.’

  Calla’s heart swelled for Charlie. His dream for his son, for this beautiful place, was going to come true.

  ‘Oh Sam … Charlie would be beside himself with happiness.’

  Sam reached for her hand. ‘But I’ve decided something else too.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I’m getting rid of the sheep.’

  ‘You never liked them, did you?’

  ‘Hated the buggers.’ Sam glanced around the room and Calla could see a gleam in his eyes. ‘With a little bit of work, not much, I reckon this place could be turned into a retreat for injured firefighters. When we’re not here, we could offer it to people in the fire service. They could come here on
their own, or bring their partners or their families over. At no charge. Spend some time with people they love the most. A week here would do anyone the world of good, don’t you reckon?’

  Calla had no words. She threw her arms around his neck and held on. When his lips pressed against hers, she claimed him as her own. She was never letting go of that man, her hero in so many ways she couldn’t count.

  CHAPTER

  49

  Sam woke Calla up with a cup of coffee. He placed it wordlessly on the small wooden coffee table and then sat next to her.

  The smell of caffeine had her blinking her eyes open. She stretched and yawned and thanked every angel she knew that Sam Hunter was right there, smiling down at her. The man who’d dragged a mattress out into the living room the night before so they could lie by the warmth of the fire, and make love tenderly and adoringly, and who was now looking at her as if she didn’t have bed hair and morning breath.

  ‘Good morning,’ she whispered; as she moved, she realised parts of her still ached.

  Sam planted a hand on either side of her pillow and leant down to kiss her again. His lips had some kind of magical power over her because even though she was horizontal she still feared she’d fall over when he kissed her like that. She entwined her arms around his neck just to make sure she stayed safe.

  ‘Morning, Red,’ he said against her lips.

  ‘Morning, Crash.’

  He lifted his eyebrows. ‘You remember that, huh?’

  ‘It’s kind of how we met.’

  ‘True.’ He kissed her nose. ‘Drink your coffee and get dressed. I want to take you somewhere before we have to go back to Adelaide.’

  The winter sun shone down on the dam like a spotlight. Calla reached for Sam’s hand and they walked to the water’s edge. A breeze rippled the water and the resident pair of ducks appeared unfazed by their arrival.

  ‘One last look before we go home,’ Sam said. ‘Just to make sure you really like the place.’

  Calla looked around at the gums and the grass and the shadows and the light. She breathed it in deep, wanting it to stay with her. She let go of his hand and slipped her fingers into the back pocket of his jeans. ‘I love everything about it, Sam. I think I have from the first time you brought me here. The dam, the house. The view out to Antechamber Bay. I think I’ll always see Charlie sitting on the front veranda in his chair. I’m so glad I got to meet him before …’ She leant her head against his chest.

  Sam reached an arm around her shoulders, looked into Calla’s green eyes. ‘Because of you, I finally talked to him about this place. Because of you, our last words weren’t a fight. We talked about a whole lot of stuff. The property. About the time I almost died. About you.’

  ‘You talked about me?’

  ‘On the day he died, I finally realised he was about the smartest man I know. Not only did he want me to keep this place, but he told me I should marry you.’

  Calla exhaled a deep breath. ‘That’s one patriarchal control-freak of a father right there.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Where does he get off telling his son who he should marry?’

  Sam’s face warmed and a smile grew from the lips she loved kissing. ‘So. Will you?’

  Calla looked up at him. ‘You’re asking me …?’

  ‘Yes. I’m asking you to marry me. You and me. The damsel in distress and the professional hero. It’s a match made in heaven, don’t you think?’

  ‘I think I love you, Sam Hunter.’ They were the easiest words she would ever say.

  ‘I know I love you … what’s your name again? Callie? Calla?’

  Calla jabbed a finger into his stomach as she laughed.

  ‘Funny thing is, Charlie knew I loved you before I did. He could see it.’

  ‘He could? And there we were, thinking he was losing his marbles.’

  ‘Tell me about it. I thought I was hiding it pretty well.’

  ‘Why did you want to hide it?’

  ‘You were trying to simplify your life, remember?’ I distinctly recall something about “no men”.’

  ‘Oh, that.’ Calla waved a hand dismissively. ‘I meant no ordinary men. I hadn’t taken into account meeting a man like you.’

  ‘A spectacular man, you mean.’

  ‘Yeah, that.’ Calla pushed her glasses back up her nose. ‘And an arrogant arsehole who thinks just because he flashes a proposal my way I’ll go all giddy and fall at his feet.’

  Sam’s brow creased. ‘So that’s a no?’

  ‘I don’t believe in marriage,’ Calla announced. ‘Not with my role-model parents. They managed to screw each other over, as well as a succession of other people, and torment their children with their pain and unhappiness, all at the same time. Nothing good ever comes of getting married, in my experience.’

  Sam looked up to the sky. ‘Maybe you’ve got a point. I got burnt badly the first time round.’

  ‘Is that a firefighter joke?’

  ‘Funny.’ Sam nudged Calla in the side, looked down at her. ‘What are we going to do then?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Calla said, tapping a forefinger on her chin. ‘I’d really like to have more sex with you.’

  ‘I’m at your service, Red.’

  ‘We could try dating, maybe.’

  ‘Dating?’

  ‘Yeah. Dinner-and-a-movie kind of dating. More lovely wine. Walks on the beach. Quiet nights at home. You know, that kind of stuff.’

  Sam considered what she’d said. ‘What about this? Dinner. Wine. Hot sex. Laughs. And holidays on the island as often as we can?’

  ‘Now that’s a proposal I’ll accept.’

  Sam took her face in his hands. ‘You have to promise to come back here with me. As often as we can.’

  ‘I promise. With everything I am. I can’t believe you’re keeping Roo’s Rest for us.’

  ‘For us. For Charlie. For my mother. For Andy. For my workmates who might need it. For my history and our future together. I think we’ve got one, don’t you?’

  ‘You bet your arse we do.’ Calla looked at the man she loved and could feel her new life unfurling before her eyes. Her future was going to be full of hope, of laughter and love with this man.

  ‘I was trying to simplify my life, you know. Before I met you.’

  Sam grinned back at her. ‘This’ll be the easiest thing you ever do. I promise.’

  Sam ‘Crash’ Hunter, the man Calla loved, who loved her right back, was indeed an arrogant arsehole.

  Because he was absolutely right.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  One of the best things about writing is that it gives me the chance to explore worlds and things I’ve never experienced. For this book, I got to spend time with my friend, the artist Leith Semmens, who kindly showed me his studio and answered my questions about his craft.

  And of course, as Sam Hunter is a firefighter, I simply had to talk to firies and the people who know them well. (It’s a hard job but someone’s got to do it.) Thanks to Andrew, Michael and Joe for being so generous.

  To Debbie and Peter Oag for taking the family to Kangaroo Island in 2012. This book began with handwritten notes in a cabin at Hanson Bay, where the wild seas raged at night and the tammar wallabies came and said hello during the day.

  To the other Northcott sisters, Susie and Mary, and their other halves Peter and David, for letting us see their stunning part of the world. The cover of this book is a photo I took from Mary and David’s place, which looks out onto Antechamber Bay. Isn’t it spectacular?

  To my ever-patient family. Thank you once again for wine and chocolate and the solitude I need to create.

  To all the wonderful women I’ve met since I’ve been in the writing world, especially my publisher sisters Rachael Johns and Bronwyn Stuart. You are two of the best gals I know and always make me laugh.

  To my editor Kate O’Donnell, defender of bums, vintage port and orthopaedic pillows. Thank you for your wise guidance.

  To the wonder
ful Michelle Laforest, Cristina Lee, Sue Brockhoff, Annabel Blay and the rest of the team at Harlequin Australia. I still can’t quite believe you put out books with my name on them – and now my photo as well! And to Nada Backovic for turning my photo into such a gorgeous cover.

  Finally, while Kangaroo Island is a very real place, I’ve used a mix of actual locations and invented ones, because I’m a writer and I like to make things up. If you visit, you might want to consult a map first.

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  ISBN: 9781488797828

  Title: Only We Know

  First Australian Publication 2015

  Copyright © 2015 by Victoria Purman

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilisation of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher:

  Harlequin Enterprises

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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