Cottage on Oceanview Lane

by Lilly Mirren

  "Things change, Mum."

  That was her entire explanation. Things change.

  Cindy shook her head as she reached for a can of baked beans. Yes, she knew things changed, but she didn't know Sarah could. Her eldest had always had a strong will and a determined way about her. She'd decided on Sydney and a career in publishing, and she'd gone after it until she had it. Nothing could stop her. Cindy was proud of her daughter's achievements. She couldn't help worrying, of course. That was a mother's prerogative, she often told herself. Andrew would say, stop worrying, Cindy. Everyone's fine. Life is good.

  What did he know?

  Apparently, he'd been plotting to leave her behind her back, suggesting life for him wasn't as good as he liked to let on. Though she still couldn't figure out what it was about his life that was so unbearable. She took care of him, took care of everything. He had it easy. She ran the cafe her parents had left her in their will when they passed, and it provided them with the income they needed after he retired from his job as a financial planner. All he had to do was keep the books.

  Now that he was gone, she couldn't figure out what all those numbers meant. Perhaps she should've kept up with the cafe's finances, but she hadn't expected her husband to leave her. Not in her sixties. They'd been through so much together, raised three children, built the business. To be alone at this time of her life wasn't part of the plan.

  She grabbed a bunch of fresh flowers, added it to the trolley and headed for the checkout.

  No time to dwell on the past, on what she'd missed and how she'd managed to ignore the warning signs in her marriage. She'd done enough of that over the previous two months. She had a meal to cook now. Sarah was used to getting takeaway for dinner, and she wouldn't find much of a variety of restaurants in Emerald Cove. Cooking meals was one of the ways Cindy showed her family love, and she relished the idea of being able to do it more often for Sarah. With a smile, she set the full bags of groceries one by one back in the trolley and headed for the car.

  Chapter 4

  Meg

  Meg paced to the other side of the ER waiting room, then back again. She rubbed the tips of her fingers against her eyes, pressing deep into her eye sockets, then sighed.

  What was going on back there? When would she find out whether Brad would live or die? So far, they hadn't given her anything definitive. He'd made it to the hospital, but only just. The paramedics had resuscitated him twice in the ambulance on the journey from the surf competition to the ER. Still, he was breathing when she told him goodbye with a hurried kiss before he was wheeled through the swinging glass doors at the end of the room. Doors she now kept glancing at, waiting to hear something, anything about how he was doing.

  She'd never had to manage anything like this before. Usually there was an adult to turn to when a tragedy unfolded. Someone who could make the phone calls, tell her how to feel, remind her that she wasn't alone. Only this time, she was alone. Very alone.

  Her heart thundered in her chest, which felt tighter and more constricted by the moment, as if every breath was harder to take than the one before it. She leaned against the wall, stared at a pamphlet about breast self-examinations tacked to a corkboard, and did her best to calm her breathing.

  Brad would be okay. He had to be okay. This couldn't be the story of their marriage, their lives together. It couldn't end now, on their honeymoon. They were supposed to spend decades together, grow old, have children, grandchildren…walk on the beach together hand in hand, into the glowing sunset.

  This didn't make any sense.

  Her phone buzzed on the hard, plastic seat where she'd left it. The room hummed with activity. Children squealed and cried, waiting their turn to see a doctor. Mothers did their best to occupy the active ones. A young boy held an obviously broken arm while his mother filled out paperwork beside him, her face gaunt.

  Again, Meg's phone buzzed, this time spinning in a circle on the seat. She strode to the chair and picked up the mobile, swiping the screen to answer.

  “Vicky?” Her voice broke on the word, thick with tears.

  "Honey, where are you? What's going on? I saw all these missed calls from you, then I put on the news and Brad was…was in an accident."

  Tears coursed down Meg's cheeks at the sound of her friend’s voice. "He fell, on the way down the wave. It was a giant and crushed him. He's in surgery now, I don't know what's happening. They told me he needed surgery on his neck and back, and that he was in critical condition. It doesn't look good… I'm here all by myself. I don't know what to do!" The words spewed from her mouth, punctuated by sobs. She slumped into the chair, pressing a hand to her eyes.

  "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry." Vicky’s voice cracked with emotion. "Do you want me to come to Hawaii? To be with you?”

  "No, there's nothing you can do. I've already spoken to Brad's parents, and they're on their way. They'll be here tomorrow, and they'll help… I just wish we hadn't come here. I wish we'd honeymooned somewhere else and forgotten about this comp. I should've said something, I didn't want to do it, but I thought it would make him happy…"

  "Meg, honey,“ Vicky’s voice interrupted her with a firm tone, “this isn't your fault. You did nothing wrong. Brad knows the risks, he surfs these kinds of waves all the time. It had nothing to do with you, it was an accident."

  "But what if he was distracted, didn't prepare himself for the competition the way he usually does. We went snorkelling this morning, and his coach wasn't happy about it. Told him he should've been at the beach preparing, getting his mind on track. Oh, what if it's my fault?" Meg burst into tears. It was the first time since the accident she'd let herself be overcome with emotion, and now the tears fell unchecked down her tired cheeks.

  The swinging glass doors pushed open, and the doctor who'd spoken to her earlier emerged, pushing his white mask down from his face. His forehead was lined, and Meg couldn't read his expression. Her heart seized.

  “Vicky, I've got to go. I'll call you later."

  She hung up the phone and faced the doctor with a sharp intake of breath.

  "Mrs Taylor?" he said.

  She nodded. "Yes."

  "I'm Dr Benson. Brad's out of surgery, and he's stable for now."

  She let out a rush of breath. "Oh, thank you, Dr Benson. Thank you!"

  He offered her a half smile. "Don't thank me yet. We're not out of the woods. I'm afraid he's sustained some serious neck and back injuries. We did the best we could to fix the damage, but we may have to do further surgeries when he's stronger and more likely to survive them."

  Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean? He might not survive?"

  Dr Benson pressed his hands to his hips. “No, he may not survive. We had to close him up because his blood pressure dropped, he was too weak to continue. We'll try again if, or when, he is strong enough to handle the surgery."

  Meg's vision blurred. She shook her head. This couldn't be happening. Brad was young, he was strong and fit. Surely, he'd make it through.

  "So, what are the chances of him recovering?" Her voice sounded calm, but inside she was quivering from head to toe, her legs threatening to give out beneath her.

  "I really can't say. The damage to his spine could be permanent, we have to prepare for that possibility, but as I said, we really don't know."

  "Permanent? Do you mean paralysis?"

  He nodded. "And that's likely the best outcome. At this stage, we're simply hoping he'll make it through the night."

  Chapter 5

  Cindy

  The Seaside Manor Bed and Breakfast was only a few hundred metres away from Cindy's home. She and the owner, Diana Jones, had known each other since childhood and had been fast friends all that time.

  Cindy stared up at the back of the building where creeping vines blanketed one side of the bed and breakfast. The back door was solid timber, painted in a rust-coloured red. A winding footpath curved away from the house, flanked by the cottage garden Diana spent so much time in and was so proud of. It w
as lush and colourful at this time of year. They'd had plenty of rain in recent weeks, and the gardens around the Cove reflected it with their dark greens and vibrant pinks, yellows and reds.

  Cindy pushed open the back door and stepped inside. The sweet scent from the bunch of flowers she'd bought for Diana followed her inside, immediately filling the hall with their soft aroma.

  She knew where to find her friend and manoeuvred her way down three steps and through a narrow opening. She knocked on a dark timber door.

  "Come in!" called a high voice.

  She opened the door, smiling. "Hello, Di, I brought you those flowers you wanted."

  "Wonderful!" Her friend stood from behind the desk where she was working to embrace Cindy. "Good to see you. How're you going getting ready for Sarah's arrival?"

  Cindy slid into a seat across from Diana and handed the flowers to her friend who promptly pulled a vase from the sideboard and filled it with the arrangement of pink and purple carnations and soft white baby's breath.

  "She's here! She's at the cottage doing a bit of unpacking, and I've been shopping, and she's coming over soon for dinner, so I can't stay long."

  "Sounds wonderful. I can't believe she's actually here." Diana sat in her chair and steepled her hands on the desk.

  "Me either. I can't help…" She stopped, frowned.

  "What?"

  Cindy exhaled a slow breath. "I hope she didn't give up her entire life just to help me."

  Diana shook her head, shrugged.

  "I don't think I could live with that - knowing she might've given up her career for me. It's always meant so much to her. And what about her fiancé?" Cindy's eyebrows arched. She'd always liked Jeremy.

  "Ex-fiancé," Diana reminded her.

  "Yes, of course, ex-fiancé. Still, they were good together. Now, in the course of the two months since her father's disappearing act, she's broken off her engagement and left the city behind, along with her career. Something's not right."

  "Maybe it impacted her more than she's letting on," Diana said.

  "Perhaps… She and Andy were pretty close."

  "I still can't believe he left you for that…woman!" Diana sniffed. "It's an absolute travesty."

  Cindy couldn't even summon enough emotion to feel anything about her ex-husband. Well, technically he was still her husband, though he didn't act like he was and she preferred to think of him in the past tense.

  She chuckled. "Leaving me for his much younger assistant - it's very clichéd."

  "The ultimate cliché," Diana agreed with a dip of her head. "And with the hair…"

  "And those nails," Cindy added. Generally, she didn't like to criticise, but in this particular case, she felt she should have a little bit of latitude. Though it gave her a queasy feeling inside. She shifted gears. "Regardless of She-Who-Won't-Be-Named, the way he left -without a word - it wasn't like him."

  "I think it was exactly like him," Diana said with a flair of her nostrils.

  "I know you never liked him—"

  Diana interrupted her. "He wasn't good enough for you - when we were kids or now. He doesn't seem…genuine, even when he's being as sweet as pie. And to leave you with all that credit card debt…"

  Cindy's lips flattened into a straight line. She'd spent more than twenty years defending her husband, and it'd become something of a habit that was hard to break. However, he had made the transition a little easier for her by leaving behind a flood of credit card debt she'd known nothing about and which seemed to grow each passing day as new bills arrived in the post. Why had he continued to grow his financial planning business if he wasn't making a profit? The irony would've made her laugh if she wasn't so anxious about what she should do now. And with the mortgage on the cafe — she might lose everything.

  "Well, perhaps you've been right all along. I should've listened to you, I suppose. Although we did have a lot of good years, and then of course there's the kids. I can't regret my children - they're the best thing I've ever done." Cindy meant every word as her throat tightened. She couldn't imagine her life without the three children she'd birthed and cared for, even if they'd spent the past decade living in various parts of the world far away from Emerald Cove. She told herself their independence was a sign she'd done a good job raising them.

  "Your children are wonderful," Diana admitted. She'd never been able to have children herself and so had taken on the role of doting adopted aunt to Cindy's. "And I'm so glad Sarah is back, I can't wait to see her. Everyone's talking about it, you know."

  Cindy grimaced. "I know. They can't help themselves. They see drama and intrigue where there is none. I do hope they leave her alone, for at least a few weeks until she settles in. You'll put out the word, won't you?"

  "Of course," Diana said with a determined nod. "I'll make sure everyone knows to give her some space for a few days."

  "Weeks," Cindy corrected as she stood and smoothed her skirt with both hands.

  Diana inhaled a deep breath. "I'll do my best, but you know how exciting it is for us all…the big-time editor back from the city. No one understands why she broke off the engagement to such a rising literary star, and we're all curious."

  Cindy frowned. "Poor Sarah. There's no way we can keep the local gossips off her back, is there?"

  "I'm afraid not." Diana stepped out from behind her desk and embraced Cindy with a peck on the cheek. "Not to worry, Sarah can hold her own, and she's used to them."

  "I suppose that's true. And she has been living in Sydney, navigating the cutthroat corporate world for the past decade."

  "Yes, she has. She'll be fine," Diana replied, looping her arm through Cindy's and walking her to the back door.

  "Only, I wish I knew why she'd decided to move back here out of the blue like that. I hope it wasn't only for my sake, but then if it wasn't - what was it?"

  As she walked away down the winding garden path, past the red- and white-capped gnomes and the stained fairy statues, she couldn't stop thinking about Sarah, her runaway husband and what on earth she'd do with herself if she lost the cafe.

  Chapter 6

  Sarah

  It'd taken every ounce of strength she had to get the mattress from the place where it'd been wedged between boxes and the closet against the wall onto the floor at her feet.

  Sarah puffed hard, then slid onto the mattress, her booted feet careful to stay off the freshly added sheets. The mattress was surrounded in boxes and bags, but at least she now had somewhere to sleep that night. That was, if she didn't decide to stay over at Mum's instead. The idea of sleeping in her old bed for the night was a lot more appealing than a mattress on the floor. She'd put the bed together tomorrow and get some things put away. It'd feel more like a home then.

  Outside, a kookaburra laughed, the sound echoing through the scrub around the cottage. The wind whistled through the eaves, sending a shiver down her spine. That was another thing she'd have to learn to get used to - the wind seemed to blow constantly on the outlook over the jagged cliff face where the cottage perched.

  She set her clock radio on top of one of the boxes and found an outlet to plug it in. Nothing. There was no electricity. Of course, she'd intended to make the phone call before she left Sydney but hadn't gotten around to it. There were so many other more pressing issues. And now she was without power. Another thing to add to tomorrow's growing list of to-dos.

  There wouldn't be much point setting up her laptop yet then, even though she'd assured her boss she'd be working tomorrow, the next day at the latest. She hadn't connected the internet yet either.

  With a sigh, she ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it back into the long, brown ponytail that hung almost to her waist. Then, with a heave, she stood and padded to the kitchen. By the time she'd found a few of the more necessary kitchen items, like the kettle of course, a box of tea bags, cereal and some long-life milk, along with a bowl, spoon and cup, all stashed in a small box marked, "Unpack first - Kitchen", she felt much better. There was no refrigerator
, so nowhere to put the milk yet. Still, seeing her cup and bowl on the bench gave her a small sense of satisfaction.

  With a nod, she grabbed the overnight bag she'd packed in Sydney, along with her purse, and headed for the car, locking the cottage behind her. She wasn't sure what the local etiquette was anymore. When she was a kid, no one locked their doors in the Cove. But she'd been living in Sydney for almost fifteen years, and door locking had become an instinct more than anything else. She wasn't sure she could go back to leaving everything open the way she had in the past, especially since her closest neighbour here seemed to be at least one hundred metres away through scrub and bush.

  The drive through town was nostalgic for her. So many memories popped into her mind as she turned down the main street, then onto side roads that led to the place she'd called home for so many years. The time Vicky had fallen off her bike and broken her funny bone, the time Adele, her younger sister, had announced she was in love with little Brad Taylor beneath a particularly gnarled-looking gum tree and proceeded to spend the next six months mooning about him and following him around.

  The memories brought a smile to Sarah's face.

  She pulled into the driveway at the house on Broadwater Terrace, her eyes watering. She'd avoided visiting Mum since Dad left. Hated the idea of seeing her in that big house all alone. It wasn't right, didn't seem normal somehow without Dad there. He'd been retired for the last two years, so even though she didn't visit often, when she did, he was always there, puttering around the place, fixing this or fussing with that, the latest mystery novel never far out of reach.

  It made no sense at all to her that he'd gone from retirement and mystery novels to running off with his former assistant. The fact that he hadn't called her to talk to her about it angered her, but it seemed petty to hold onto that given the fact that he hadn't talked to Mum either. Sarah had spoken to her father since he moved out, but he never wanted to talk about the breakup, never wanted to answer her questions about why he'd given up on his family that way. His stubbornness and seeming lack of compassion confounded and angered her, but she'd always been a peacemaker when it came to her dad. He was standing on a precipice ready to jump and leave them all behind for good. She didn't want that, so she'd swallowed her retorts to try to coax him back, away from the edge, talking about nothing in particular, laughing over frivolous stories and hoping all the while he'd open up on his own if she gave him enough space. But so far, he never had.