Jasmine Sea

by Phillipa Nefri Clark

  “Oh, is everything okay?” Elizabeth appeared from the direction of the kitchen.

  “This little one needs to sleep. Thank you for looking after us. And Randall.”

  “You both go up and once he’s had a stop outdoors, I’ll get Angus to let him in with you. Go on. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Martin carefully climbed the stairs, carrying the most precious thing in his life. By the time he put her into bed, she was almost asleep. Overcome with weariness, he slipped into bed and turned her into his arms. “Sleep, Christie Blake.”

  “Hmm?” Her eyes opened. “Did you call me Christie Blake?”

  “Law of attraction. I’ll explain another time. Sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

  She sighed deeply. The heat from Martin’s body flowed into her and she snuggled closer, going to sleep by the sound of his steady heartbeat.

  A few minutes later, Angus quietly opened the door and Randall padded in. Christie and Martin were asleep in each other’s arms. Randall checked them, then lay down with a contented grunt.

  Chapter Forty-nine

  The calm sea mirrored a perfect blue sky. The only reminder of the storm was debris along the high tide mark, lumps of seaweed and driftwood. All the signs of the previous evening’s emergency were gone, except footprints and scrapings in the high sand. Christie sat on the beach, still exhausted but free of the fog of despair. Randall was fine. So was Martin. It was Jasmine Sea that now broke her heart.

  A few hundred metres out, a salvage operation was underway. The yacht was almost on its side, surprisingly not under the water. A towing vessel and its crew worked on bringing her upright, padding flotation devices along the starboard side. There was a dry dock in Geelong where Jasmine Sea would undergo repairs.

  “She’ll be fine.” Martin dropped onto the sand beside Christie. “Drink.” He handed her a bottle of water.

  “Thanks. I told you I’d sink her.”

  “Well, you were wrong. There’s always pockets of air, which was enough to keep her more or less floating. We need to get something straight, right now.” Martin gently took Christie’s chin and turned her face to look at him. “Derek Hobbs did this. Not you.”

  “Yes, but if I’d called you first, or got off her in Willow Bay, or...”

  “Or what? There is one and only one thing you should have done differently.” His tone matched his serious and stern expression.

  Christie dropped her eyes. “Charged my phone.”

  He released her chin and took both of her hands.

  “You don’t need to tell me off. I understand the position I left myself in.” She brought her eyes back to his, speaking quietly, but with conviction. “One phone call would have changed everything and I will never make that mistake again. Same as locking doors.”

  “Yes, well you’re not the only one at fault there. I should have locked Randall in. You might not have had a moment of rest, but he wouldn’t have pushed the door open after you.” He kissed Christie, just a brush of his lips against hers. “Big lesson for us both.”

  With a groan that resonated across the bay, Jasmine Sea slowly righted herself, the masts pointing to the sky. Martin’s hands tightened around Christie’s. “Good,” he said. “She’ll be on her way soon. And you need to pack for Auckland.”

  “Will you help me?”

  “Seeing as Angus loaned me his Range Rover, I might as well ferry you around. Until we retrieve that fancy car of yours.” He grimaced as he got to his feet more slowly than usual. “I might stay out of the sea for a bit.”

  Christie took his offered hand. The sea isn’t so bad. Not anymore.

  ***

  “I just can’t believe it.” Martin touched one of the paintings in the cottage entry. With no front door yet, the space was dark. “Even then Thomas was a genius.”

  “Did he ever talk to you about this?” Christie flicked a torch around.

  “Never. And I don’t know what he will think.” Martin stepped back into the hallway. “Or how he’ll react.”

  “If it was you, would you want to have them back? To know?”

  “Yes. Yes, it would change everything.”

  They went into her bedroom. “Speaking of having paintings back, what about this one?”

  Sole Survivor, still in its box, leaned against the wall. Martin revealed the painting, then sat on the bed to look at it. Grateful for any chance to get off her feet, Christie climbed onto his lap. “It’s a beautiful piece. And Trev said it is mine now. So, do you want it?”

  “I don’t need it. There’s no relevance for me.”

  “How so?”

  He wrapped his arms around Christie and leaned his chin on her shoulder. “You were spot on when you said it was about me. But I’m not the person who painted it now.” He sighed as if releasing past demons. “I look at that man and see pain. Loneliness. Even hopelessness. That’s my past.”

  She turned in his arms with a smile. “And your present?”

  “You know the answer. All I focused on last night was you being my wife.”

  “Christie Blake.”

  “As soon as you are ready. Once you’re home, shall we set a date?”

  Her reply was to throw her arms around Martin and squeeze him as hard as she could. “Easy, sweetheart.” He laughed. “Bits of me still hurt.”

  “Any bits that don’t?”

  “Behave.” He turned her back around toward the painting. “If you’re okay with it, we might donate it to the Coast Guard. They can sell it and get some much-needed funds.”

  “That’s a wonderful gesture. They made sure Jasmine Sea was okay. But our little town. How do I thank them?”

  “By being yourself. They love you.”

  “And I love them. I belong.”

  “About time you worked it out.”

  ***

  Christie locked the cottage and checked it twice, making Martin laugh. “Would you like me to give the key back to Barry?” Barry had dropped his set around to Palmerston House once word got out that Christie’s were missing. “He’s given the boys the day off and taken one himself. He mentioned something about returning some baskets to Sylvia.”

  “Thanks. What will I do about the Lotus though?”

  “Drive it?” Trev came around the corner of the cottage. “Nice to see you looking so... dry.” He shook Martin’s hand and kissed Christie’s cheek. “Feeling a bit better today?”

  “Everything hurts, but yes. But how do I drive the Lotus without keys?”

  “Cleared them from evidence. Here.” Trev took her car and cottage keys from a pocket. “Just one of many problems looming ahead for one Derek Hobbs.”

  “Thank you so much” Christie took the keys. “Trev, was there anything... else on him?” Her voice faltered and she unconsciously touched her ring finger.

  “It wouldn’t feel right for me to do this, so here, Martin.” Trev took Christie’s ring out of a different pocket and handed it to Martin.

  Christie let out a small sob and tears flooded her eyes. Martin looked skyward. “Christie, no more crying! Now, this is your last chance to change your mind. Still want to marry me?”

  She nodded, blinking rapidly to clear the tears, but one fell onto Martin’s hand as he took hers. He slipped the ring on and kissed her hand. Then he found a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes.

  “Thanks, mate.” He nodded to Trev, who sported a big grin.

  “All good. I’ll need you both for statements today. Sorry, but the sooner we do it, the faster I can escalate charges. Say, an hour from now?” He waved and headed back to his car.

  “I don’t want to leave.” Christie whispered, staring at her ring.

  “The cottage?”

  “River’s End.”

  “We’ll be here,” Martin said. “Randall and I, we will be here. And you’ll come home and we’ll get married. So, there it is.”

  You’re right. Christie smiled. “Yes, there it is.”

  ***

  Excitement bubbled up in C
hristie as the Lotus hugged the final curve before home. To her left the ocean stretched out forever, sparkling and inviting under the early autumn sky. Two weeks made a noticeable difference at this time of year, particularly the deciduous trees with their blaze of yellow, red, and orange.

  A quick phone call to Martin when she cleared the airport had her curious. “Go to the cottage first. There’s a surprise for you.” It was too far past lunch for a picnic and they were expected at Palmerston House tonight for the delayed engagement party.

  She turned into her street, singing along to the radio as she navigated the familiar potholes and railway track. Instead of going up the driveway, she parked on the grass verge. Her bags could come in later. There was no sign of Martin, but then again, last time she’d returned from a job, he and Randall were already inside the cottage.

  In delight, she halted at the gate. Gone was her dreadful attempt at drawing a door and in its place was the real one. Two new steps led to a security screen door. The smell of freshly mown grass took her attention. Not only mown, but there was a new path to the front door. Whatever had Martin been up to? She went around the back.

  At the porch she stopped, hand over her mouth. There was a love seat and a hanging basket of jasmine. The tendrils touched her as she unlocked the door and she inhaled their scent with a smile. “Martin? Randall?” She called, stepping in.

  The kitchen was finished. New sink, appliances, and re-varnished floorboards. The old kitchen table still dominated the room, but it was now lacquered a rich mahogany.

  Room by room, Christie inspected the cottage, gasping at the changes. The curtains were hung, flooring all done, laundry and bathroom beautiful with brand new fittings and appliances. Like a new house! Like a home. Vases of flowers adorned the bedrooms and lounge room, and Martin’s painting of her hung above the fireplace. There was still plenty to do, but someone had put a lot of love and effort into this.

  The end of the hallway was transformed. Christie walked right into a gorgeous little entry. Thomas’ paintings adorned two walls, and there was a narrow table, clearly crafted by Martin. Beneath it, more of Thomas’ paintings were lined up.

  She opened the front door and the screen door, and stood on the top step smiling at the garden. What a difference from the overgrown, sad old building she’d inherited.

  The sound of a car broke the silence. She recognised the old four wheel drive and wondered why Martin would come in that instead of his motorcycle.

  It turned into the driveway and stopped. Christie squealed as Thomas climbed out of the back seat and opened the front door for Martha.

  Chapter Fifty

  “I can’t believe it!” Christie jumped up and down, and then ran toward the driveway, just as Martin appeared from around the back of the car. Like a bullet, Randall raced past everyone, straight to Christie, and she leaned down to hug him. He whimpered and wiggled in joy, licking her face as she told him how much she’d missed him.

  “Does this happen often?” Thomas asked Martin. Christie looked up at them, Martha with her arms open, Thomas shaking his head, and Martin grinning. “All the time.” Martin replied. “She has her priorities right.”

  As much as she wanted to fly into his arms, it was Martha who she went to first, once she’d extricated herself from doggie kisses.

  “My darling!” Martha embraced Christie and kissed her cheek. “You beautiful child! I have missed you so very, very much.”

  “Stop hogging her.” Thomas complained. “What about me, young lady?”

  “Oh, Thomas, I can’t believe you’re both back!” Christie dived at him and he laughed as he enfolded her in a bear hug, almost swinging her off her feet. Randall ran around them both.

  “See, Martha. This is what you’ll have to get used to. Randall really only cares about them.” Martin put an arm around Martha’s shoulders.

  “So I see,” she said. “Shall we go?”

  “Don’t you dare!” Christie slid away from Thomas and turned to Martin. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” He held out a hand and she accepted the invitation. He kissed her and tiny sparks of electricity lit up her nervous system. When she opened her eyes, it was to look straight into his own dark pools so often unreadable. Not now. There was promise and desire in their depths.

  “My God.” Thomas stared at the open front door. “What have you done?”

  “I remember the front door.” Martha put her hand on Thomas’ arm. “Oh. I remember everything, Tom.”

  “Granddad, I should have warned you.”

  “It is just a door.” Strain coloured Thomas’ voice.

  Martin and Christie exchanged a worried glance. “Okay, before this gets out of hand, I insist you step through my front door, Thomas!” Christie took his hand and tugged. He stayed where he was. “Hey, trust me,” she pleaded.

  Something about her tone of voice got his attention and he let her lead him to the steps. She released his hand and stood back with a smile. “It’s something good, I think.”

  As though to humour Christie, Thomas stepped into the entry way. There was a moment of silence, then “Martha! Martha come quickly.”

  Martha almost broke into a sprint to reach him and Christie grabbed her arm to steady her up the steps, Martin right behind.

  “What is it, dear? Oh, my.”

  Thomas had his arm over Martha’s shoulders and she had hers around his waist. They surveyed the paintings on the walls and on the table. Martha found him a tissue and he brushed away tears.

  “Granddad?”

  “You’re not in trouble. So it isn’t granddad.” Thomas emerged with a look of wonder. “Someone had better explain this.”

  “Nobody knows for sure, but it seems your father sealed the paintings in. When Barry took the cupboard out, there they were.” Christie said.

  “And brushes and paints, Thomas.” Martin added.

  Martha followed Thomas back onto the lawn, holding tightly onto his arm. “What a day.”

  “And this probably isn’t the best time, but, well I want to offer you both the cottage. As a gift from me.” Christie rushed the words. “It’s almost completely renovated with new appliances and—”

  “Darling,” Martha interrupted. “This is your home.”

  “Yes. But if you would live here... if you feel you could live here, then nothing would make me happier than to gift it to you both.”

  “It’s not as though she’ll be living here for long.” Martin threw in and Christie turned a startled look at him. “Probably not even for another day.”

  “I won’t? Okay. Yes, Martin.”

  “Yes, Martin? What have you been doing to this poor child?” Thomas asked, winking at Martha. “Martha and I will talk about it.”

  With a huge smile, Christie hugged him, and then Martha. “Go inside and see!” She insisted.

  Alone with Martin, she stole a glance at him. “You want me to move in with you?”

  “Randall does.”

  “Oh. Randall does. Well, I’d better make him happy then.”

  Martin reached for Christie.

  ***

  Music and laughter filled Palmerston House. The fountain bubbled its ever-changing coloured water and fairy lights decorated the long verandah. Inside, people danced and talked, toasted each other, and swapped stories about the night of the storm. With Thomas and Martha home, there was extra joy and celebration.

  Elizabeth watched on with pride as her friends shared this wonderful evening, enjoying the bounty of food she’d prepared with the help of Angus, Sylvia, and Belinda, who was home for the occasion.

  “Thank you so much, Elizabeth!” Christie appeared from the kitchen with a tray of bite-sized quiches. “Palmerston House looks magnificent and you also look stunning.” She kissed Elizabeth on the cheek.

  “Me? Oh, thank you. You are the guest of honour, by the way, and should let me take that around.”

  “Not a chance. Anyway, I think someone is going to ask you to dance.” Christie grinned as
Angus approached. “Aren’t you, Angus?”

  “What was the question?”

  “Elizabeth wants to dance.”

  “Christie! I did not say that—”

  “What a good idea. Shall we?” Angus offered his arm. Elizabeth gave Christie a perturbed look, but took his arm, and they ventured onto the dance floor.

  “Are you matchmaking again?” Martin was right behind Christie, leaning down to kiss her neck.

  “Umm, no, they did that all by themselves. Just helping a bit.” What he was doing to her was not helping her concentration and the tray tilted.

  “I’ll do that! You can take the world’s-best-bakery-person out of River’s End, but not River’s End out of... actually, that doesn’t make sense. But I’ll take it.” Belinda grabbed the tray. “And it is just as well that someone else caught that awful man before I did!”

  “You said that earlier.” Christie reminded her with a grin. “I didn’t encourage you to go to beauty school to come up with ways to turn hair straighteners into weapons.”

  “Well, I might need to protect myself one day. Anyway, you two go back to whatever you were... umm, doing.”

  “Hey, nothing!” Christie said to Belinda’s back. “I’ve missed her.”

  “Christie. Let’s talk.”

  “Oh no. See, we did this when Thomas married Martha and... okay, I’m coming.”

  Martin climbed the staircase to the top step, where he sat. Christie joined him and for a moment, they watched the party below. Barry and Sylvia chatted by the window. Trev and Charlotte were deep in a rather animated discussion. Angus and Elizabeth danced rather close to each other.

  Daphne and John held hands, making Christie smile. “Daphne told me that John wants to sell up the agency and get a caravan. It was a bit of a confusing conversation and she told me she never liked her high heels anyway. I love her.”

  “I love you.” Martin touched Christie’s cheek. “Tomorrow, let’s set a date. No later than spring.”

  Christie nodded, her eyes wide. The music and sounds of the party were distant. All she could see was Martin, every inch of her body alive with love and longing.