by Vivi Holt
Baker greeted townsfolk as they entered the church, shaking hands, nodding his head, squeezing a shoulder here and there. Grief was a strange thing, and he knew from experience there was nothing he could do to assuage it. All he could do was make this day as seamless and simple as possible, to help Issie, Cindy and everyone who’d loved the Proctors through it.
Isabella reached the doors and stretched out her hand to him with a quick nod. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she opened her mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out.
“Issie, I’m so sorry for your loss,” he mumbled, squeezing her hand. He searched her face for some kind of reaction, but she didn’t meet his gaze, instead hurrying through the door with one arm looped through her aunt’s.
The service was brief, and he barely had to refer to his notes. He’d known the Proctors his whole life, had come to know them even better in the year since he’d become their neighbour and over recent months when they’d begun attending the church. He spoke from his heart, and when Issie got up to offer a eulogy there wasn’t a dry eye in the place.
He’d had to take a deep breath when she returned to her seat before he could speak again. It was obvious to everyone how much she’d cared for her parents and how tragic their sudden passing was. As the last person wandered from the sanctuary, he walked between the pews picking up abandoned orders of service and any other rubbish he could find.
His heart ached for Isabella. He knew what loss felt like, and that her life would never be the same.
Isabella pressed the crumpled tissue to her nose, wiping the raw flesh again. She’d never cried so much in her life, and the effort left her exhausted. The service had been touching, more special than she’d thought it might be. She was glad she’d taken the time to pull together photographs of her parents for a slide show.
Afterwards, at the wake at Aunt Cindy’s, they’d all told stories about her parents, some of which opened her eyes to see them in a whole new way – as individuals, with a life she was starting to believe she’d known very little about. If only she’d paid more attention. And now they were gone.
Meg looped an arm through hers and pulled her close. “How are you doing, sweetie?”
Meg’s soft voice made her eyes fill with tears. She tried to smile, wiped her nose again and winced. “I’m okay, I just need more tissues. I didn’t know I’d use quite so many …”
Meg shoved a bundle of clean tissues into her hand. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, Meg.”
“You heading home?”
Isabella nodded. “Yep.”
Meg patted her arm. “Would you like me to drive you?”
“That’d be nice, but my car is here, so …”
“No worries, Chris’ll come and pick me up.”
Isabella lifted one eyebrow. “Aren’t you two divorced?”
Meg laughed, an amused jingle. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean we don’t get along.”
“Um, usually it does.” She chuckled.
“We’ve known each other our whole lives, and we live in a dinky little town where we run into each other every second day. So we just decided to get along. It’s in everyone’s best interests.”
“Okay, well, good for you. And thanks – a ride would be great. As special as the day has been, I really don’t think I can take anymore. I just have to say goodbye to Helen first – she’s flying back to Sydney this evening.”
Meg nodded and waited for Isabella to embrace her roommate and wave goodbye, then guided her toward the car. “You just relax, sweetie – I’ll take you home, feed you and tuck you in bed. How’s that sound?”
Isabella sighed. “Perfect.” Her voice thickened with emotion. “Thanks, Meg. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Meg opened the passenger door. Isabella slid in with another sigh and laid her head back on the headrest. Meg hurried around and climbed in the driver’s side to start the engine. “Baker did a good job of the service, didn’t he?”
Isabella nodded. “Yeah, he did.”
“Such a nice guy. Real shame about his wife.”
Isabella stared out the window at the buildings casting long shadows across the tarmac, glad to think about something other than her own grief for a moment. “How long’s it been?”
“I think about three years.”
Three years since his life was torn apart, and he looked as though he’d been able to piece it back together. Maybe she could too. Maybe someday things would make sense again. She only wished she’d had more time with them, that she’d not taken her parents for granted and had relished every moment with them she could. But she couldn’t go back – no one could.
29 November
Isabella opened the freezer and stared at the bucket of cookie dough ice cream. She should eat dinner first … but really, what did it matter if she skipped straight to dessert? There wasn’t anyone here to stop her.
She pulled it out, set it on the counter and searched for a clean spoon. Dirty dishes, bowls, silverware and saucepans were stacked high along the countertop, along with a trail of crumbs and food spills. She hadn’t done much washing lately. In fact, she was down to her last clean pair of underwear, and doubted there was a plate to use even if she decided to cook herself some dinner.
She grimaced and pulled a large serving spoon out of the second drawer. That would do nicely. And after dinner, or dessert, she’d do the dishes … maybe. She padded to the living room, sat in the recliner and reached for the remote. The television blinked on and she searched the menu for something decent to watch.
A knock at the door startled her, and she flicked off the telly and set the ice cream container on the side table. “Who is it?” she shouted as she made her way to the door.
“It’s us!” came a chorus of feminine voices.
She flung the door open to see Meg, Kim and Bindi, her three best childhood friends, on the threshold. “Ta-da!” cried Meg, rushing in and throwing her arms around Isabella.
Isabella sank into the embrace with a deep breath. “What are you guys doing here?” she asked with a half-grin as she closed the door behind them.
“We came to cheer you up.” Kim eyed her pyjamas and oily hair. “Have you even showered today, or gotten dressed?”
Isabella frowned and crossed her arms. “No, but …”
“What is this?” cried Meg from the living room. “You about to binge on ice cream?”
Isabella pouted. “Maybe.”
Bindi laughed and slung an arm around Isabella’s shoulders. She’d just had her third child, and the bags under her eyes testified to the sleepless nights of a tired mother, but her enthusiasm seemed undimmed. “Well, it looks like we got here just in time.” She lifted a bag of groceries onto the counter top and pulled out a block of dark chocolate. “Because we brought so much more than ice cream.”
Isabella chuckled and ran a hand over her hair. “You guys are the best.”
“Why don’t you go on and get dressed and we’ll get everything set up,” suggested Kim as she pecked her on the cheek.
Isabella nodded and headed for the bedroom. By the time she’d showered, dressed and returned to the kitchen thirty minutes later, there was a buffet of candy, chocolate and cookies set up in bowls along the countertop, along with various kinds of soda and several bottles of red and white wine. Her friends had also tidied up, washed the dishes and put everything away. She hugged them one at a time with tears in her eyes, sniffling out a mumbled thanks.
Kim turned the music on the stereo up and demanded a dance-a-thon. With a chuckle, Isabella followed her lead, spinning about on the living room floor with her arms outstretched, her damp hair flying about her shoulders.
After two hours of filling their faces with junk food, several glasses of wine and nonstop dancing to a Spotify mix of Top 40 hits from the ’80s, they’d all fallen exhausted onto the couches and chairs around the room. Breathing hard, Isabella closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying that she’d not thought about her parents’ deaths for at l
east half an hour. She’d even felt happy, however briefly.
“So,” began Bindi, wiping her shining forehead with her sleeve. “How’s life in Sydney?”
Isabella groaned.
“That bad, huh?” Kim chuckled as she reached for the pitcher of ice water on the coffee table and poured herself a tall glass. She gulped the water down, then sighed.
“What’s up?” asked Meg, concerned.
Isabella shook her head. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Okay, then … how’s work?”
She groaned again.
Meg laughed. “Come on, you’re gonna have to give us more than that.”
“Well, I quit my job.”
“What?! You’re only telling us this now?” Meg exclaimed, slapping both hands against her forehead. “I thought it was your dream job!”
“I thought it was too.” Isabella frowned. “But I kept getting passed over in favour of ‘the boys.’ And then I started dating my boss – my married boss.”
The other women shouted in dismay at the same time. “A married man?” Bindi asked, clearly disapproving. “So what happened?”
“He was a jerk – that’s what happened. He started yelling at me and treating me like dirt in front of my colleagues. He promised to promote me, then promoted everyone else around me. Finally I found out he was going to take credit for one of my ideas, and I couldn’t take it anymore – I left a note on his desk and walked. Anyhow, that was before the accident – I haven’t thought much about it since.”
Meg patted Isabella’s arm. “Of course you haven’t. Well, it sounds like you made the right decision – you shouldn’t work somewhere that makes you miserable. And dating a married guy …” She lay lengthwise on the couch, resting her head on the brown leather arm. “… gah!”
“I know. I know, you’re right. I should’ve walked away a long time ago. That’s why I’ve been avoiding Simon’s calls.”
“He’s been calling you,” Bindi said archly, popping a jelly bean into her mouth.
“Yeah, he leaves messages. I know if I take his call he’ll convince me to come back, to take him back. And I don’t want to fall into that rut again. It’s time for a change.” She exhaled slowly. Just saying the words filled her with confidence. She should make a change in her life, follow a different path.
“I know what you should do,” cried Meg, sitting up straight and slapping her hands against her knees. “You should stay here. Run the bee business. It’s yours, right? You love those bees, and you’d be really good at it.”
Isabella frowned. “I don’t know … I was planning to sell everything and fly back to Sydney to look for a job. I’ve been working so hard to become a Communications Director, I’d hate to give it up now.”
Bindi and Meg exchanged a glance. Bindi raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want to do that, though? It sounds to me like you’ve been miserable in Sydney. And you know we’d all love to have you stay here. It’s your home – we miss you.”
Isabella pursed her lips. They were right – she had been unhappy the past couple of years. Why would she stay in a career that pulled her nerves so tight they frayed? That was no way to live. And Heartstone was home – she felt it every time she came back, felt the strain of city living ease from her shoulders so she could finally relax. But could she be happy keeping bees for a living? It was fun and satisfying in ways that communications wasn’t, but was it fulfilling enough for her to build a life around?
She sighed. “Aunt Cindy said the same thing. I guess I’ll think about it.”
Kim smiled. “Well, there’s plenty of time for you to mull over it, since you can’t sell anything until the court settles the estate anyway. And that might be six months.”
Isabella’s eyes flew wide. “What – six months?”
Kim cocked her head to one side. “And that’s only if nothing goes wrong. If you’d return a phone call once in a while I could’ve talked to you about it.”
Isabella grimaced in embarrassment. “Sorry. I’ve been procrastinating on everything lately.”
“Apparently,” Bindi replied. “The dishes in the kitchen sink were about to grow legs and walk off.”
The four of them giggled. Bindi and Kim stood to gather their dirty dishes and carry them into the kitchen. “Not to change the subject,” interjected Meg, “but I was wondering if you’d like to come to church with me on Sunday.”
Isabella frowned. “Really? I don’t know …”
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Fun?!”
Meg chuckled. “You have no idea what we get up to at church. We could have super soaker battles for all you know.”
“You run around inside the chapel shooting each other with water pistols? That sounds plausible.” Isabella raised an eyebrow to underscore her sarcasm. “But okay, fine, I’ll go. Though I warn you – if someone sprinkles me with holy water or pushes me down or anything like that, I’m out of there so fast your head will spin.”
Meg snorted. “You’re hilarious. It’s a deal – if anyone does any of those things, you can walk right out and I won’t blame you.” She stood and carried her empty glass to the kitchen sink.
Isabella sat there a moment longer, her heart pounding. What had she just gotten herself into?
5
3 December
Isabella squirmed in the pew. The small church felt even more cramped on Sunday than it did for her parents’ funeral. Members of the congregation were packed close together on long wooden pews with thin magenta cushions. She glanced around the room while her fingers worried a seam on her floral skirt.
“Stop fidgeting,” whispered Meg with a wry grin. “You’re not going to prison or having surgery. It’s just church.”
“Sorry.”
The plucking of an acoustic guitar caught her ear and she sat up, straining to see around a tall bald man in front of her. She’d expected an organist or something similar and was surprised to see a guitarist, bass player and drummer up front. Other instruments joined in and the guitarist leaned forward to sing into a microphone. His voice was strong and filled the air like warm honey. Meg stood to join in the singing with the rest of the congregation. Isabella rose quickly as well, eyes wide and hands linked together.
She felt awkward, as though everyone knew she didn’t belong there. But soon she forgot her concerns. No one was watching her – they were all focused on the music or, she supposed, God. Some had their eyes closed. Some raised hands high in the air. Others swayed and twitched to the beat of the music. She bit back a smile and let her gaze wander over the group.
She spotted Baker in the front row, two small golden heads beside him bent forward as though intent on something in their laps. She spied a crayon in one petite hand and grinned, letting out the tension that had built inside her. She exhaled, took a deep breath as a feeling of warmth, acceptance, belonging and love washed over her.
There was definitely something about this place. She hadn’t felt this whole, this happy, since the accident. Actually, she’d never felt like this before in her life. It was strange, but she didn’t want it to stop.
The songs ended and everyone sat down. Her gaze followed Baker onto the stage. He began to speak, and as his words rang out they wrapped themselves around her heart. He talked about a God who’d made each one of them and loved them – loved her. She’d never heard anything like it before. Her only understanding of religion was from school or the media – and they never mentioned anything about God’s love. Tears pricked her eyes and she quickly wiped them away. She couldn’t cry in church – Meg would never let her hear the end of it.
By the time he’d finished speaking, the warm feeling inside her had grown until she was overwhelmed by it. She’d cried out every possible tear, or thought she had, over the last few weeks. Yet her throat ached and her chest held back a sob that was building up deep inside.
As the band began to play again, Baker invited anyone wanting prayer to come forward. Her heart leape
d and she broke out in a sweat as the congregation stood to sing. She glanced at Meg, who smiled encouragingly, and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She wiped her brow and swallowed hard, but the feeling persisted – she knew she had to go forward.
When she reached the front of the chapel, Baker was already praying with a man – the same tall bald man who’d been seated in front of her, blocking her view. She realized it was Dan Hesterman, who owned the local garden centre. His head was bowed and Baker had one hand on his shoulder while he prayed. Then Dan plummeted like a felled tree to the ground beside her. She cried out and leaped out of the way as he hit the carpet. Her eyes wide, she reached toward him to check his vital signs.
Baker gently reached for her arm, and she lifted her eyes to his with a gasp. “It’s okay, he’s all right,” he said with a smile.
She frowned. “But he fell …”
“Sometimes the presence of God just overwhelms us. Trust me, he’s having a great time down there on the carpet. There’s nothing as wonderful as God’s presence.” He chuckled. “Did you want some prayer?”
“Uh … no, thank you. I just wanted to say hi.”
“Hi.” He grinned and ran his fingers through his hair.
The space between them sparked with things unsaid, and Isabella became keenly aware of how tall Baker was, how close he was standing to her. She wondered for a moment if he’d always been so attractive – she certainly didn’t remember that from high school. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you about …”
“Oh?” He cocked his head and moved closer to hear her above the noise of the band.
“You said my parents had wanted to speak with you before the accident?”
“Right before it. I’m pretty sure they were on their way to see me. Which is awful … I’m so sorry.”
She nodded, her throat constricting. “Thank you. It’s just that … I was wondering if you knew what they wanted to talk about?”
