by Lilly Mirren
She drew a deep breath, faced him. "I don't want to marry you, Jer. I'm sorry it worked out this way, I'm sorry I didn't figure things out sooner. I hope you'll forgive me and someday we can be friends, but I'm not moving back to Sydney. I like it in Emerald Cove - I'm with my family, my friends, it feels like home to me. I've missed that, without even realising it, for so long now. It'll probably be the end of my career, but suddenly I don't care." She issued a hollow laugh. "But I'm not cold, it does upset me to walk away, and you have to know why I did it. I'm not stupid, Jer, even if I do take a while to catch on. I didn't want to hurt you, just as I'm sure you had no intention of hurting me - but here we are. I wish things hadn't ended this way…but you'll recover from this and do better than ever, I know you will. I wish you all the best."
He stared at her, eyes wide, unbelieving. "So, that's it?"
"That's it."
"I'll call you later, and we can discuss…"
"No, Jer - please don't call me. No more late-night phone calls. Okay? No more calling over and over, hoping I'll pick up. It's time to move on. I'll always care about you in a way, but it's over."
He pressed hands to his narrow hips, gaped. "But I…"
"I'll see you around, Jer. Oh, and I think I should probably give your books to Pauline to edit from this point on - might make things a little less awkward for us both at Greenmount."
"Pauline? No, she's not you. I need you." His voice resonated with emotion, raspy. "You're my editor."
Sarah put a hand on his shoulder, stood on tiptoe to kiss his stubbled cheek. "Not anymore, Jer. Goodbye."
Chapter 26
Sarah
The key slipped from her fingers and Sarah sighed before bending to retrieve it as her purse swung around and clocked her in the back of the head.
She straightened with a grimace and rubbed fingers where the purse's silver buckle had connected with her scalp. Then, she pushed her key into the lock on the cottage's front door. It swung open before she'd had the chance to turn the key, and she studied it with a frown.
There weren't any workmen's trucks in her drive; she'd assumed everyone had gone home for the day. She'd have to talk to Mick about making sure to lock up before they left. It seemed like it would be a natural thing to do, but this was the Cove after all.
She glanced over her shoulder, hoping for a glimpse of the dog, but there wasn't much to see in the dull light of a humid dusk. The sea breeze blew strong over the cliff top, pummelling the cottage and sweeping stray strands of her hair into her face. She pushed them back with a grunt, lugged her bags into the cottage, then rammed the door shut with her behind.
The light in the living room was on, as was the one in the kitchen. Adrenaline burst into her veins, accelerating her heart rate. Was someone there?
She set her keys and purse on the floor beside her luggage and stepped forward, careful to keep her movements quiet. She peered into the kitchen - it was empty. Then, into every corner of the living room. All that remained was the bedroom and bathroom, and she clenched her hands into fists as she faced them. There was no one else to do it. If she was going to live alone, she'd have to face an empty cottage and night-time noises alone.
It was different than living by herself in the city, with neighbours on every side, upstairs and downstairs, and a passcode to get through the glass security doors in the building's lobby. Out here, there was nothing but space, the ocean breeze, trees and bushes, hundreds of noisy birds and the occasional possum or bilby. The cottage was blanketed in the kind of quiet that would take her a long time to get used to.
Something out the back caught her eye. She stared, then strode to the deck. It'd been removed; there was nothing there but a few divots in the sandy soil where pylons had been. And beyond it, the back end of Mick's truck.
With a sigh of relief, she pressed both hands to her forehead. Mick was still there. Somewhere. The adrenaline faded, and she slumped onto the sheet-covered couch, scrubbing her hands over her face. One glance around the cottage revealed several walls had been torn down, there was plaster and dust everywhere, a hole in the ceiling reached from the wall to halfway across the living room, and a third of the kitchen cabinets had been removed.
The cottage was a disaster zone. Instead of unpacking, she might simply take her luggage and head over to Mum's. It didn't make sense to stay here when she couldn't even boil water for a cup of tea since she'd packed up all her things and the jug was in a box in her bedroom.
"I thought I heard someone come in." Mick emerged from the bedroom, a pencil stuck behind one ear and measuring tape in his hand. "I was measuring the bathroom. You're going to love the new one. Much bigger."
Sarah smiled. "I can't wait. I thought there was a murderer running loose in the house or something until I spotted your truck out the back."
He chuckled, reaching for a notepad on the kitchen bench. "Sorry about that. I should've shouted out or something."
"You probably would've given me a heart attack."
"Did you just get in?" he asked.
She nodded. "Flew into the Gold Coast Airport about two hours ago, then drove here. I'm exhausted."
"Good trip?"
She shrugged. "Define good."
He grinned, set the notepad back on the bench. "Okay, did you achieve what you set out to achieve?"
"I think so. I wanted to pitch a series to my boss, and she agreed to take it on. So, I guess that was good."
"Congratulations."
"Thanks," she replied. "I think I'm going to head over to Mum's. I can't really face this place the way it is right now."
He chuckled. "I think that's probably a good idea."
"How's the dog?"
His eyes narrowed. "What dog?"
Sarah leapt to her feet, heart fluttering. "What do you mean, what dog? Oscar!"
He laughed. "I'm joking. The dog is fine. In fact, he's asleep in your bedroom on an old rug as we speak."
Sarah's brow furrowed. "What? He's in the cottage?"
"Yep. Hey, listen, are you sure you want the oak for the floorboards?"
"Hold on," she interrupted. "I'm still stuck on the dog being inside. He never comes inside."
"He did for me." Mick pressed hands to his hips. "He's gentle as a lamb. I gave him a bath because…well, phew!" He waved a hand in front of his nose.
"He let you bathe him? Now, this I've got to see." She strode to the bedroom and peeked around the doorframe. There he was, curled in a heap on a rug she'd used to sop up drips on the floor. His feet twitched, he was running in his dreams. His fur was soft, clean, less matted. His ribs weren't as pronounced as they had been.
She muttered beneath her breath, "Of course, I leave town for a couple of nights, and you suddenly become domesticated. That's the thanks I get, huh?"
"What's that?" Mick called from the kitchen.
"Nothing," she replied as she walked back towards him. "Just that the dog is a complete pain in my rear end. I've been trying to get him to come inside for a bath for weeks. If I turned on the hose outside, he ran for the hills. Now, suddenly he's powder fresh and sleeping in my room. I'm feeling a little rejected." She laughed. "But I'm glad the two of you hit it off."
He took a swig of water from a bottle. "Don't worry, I'm sure he'll get used to you."
"Gee, thanks."
"So, are you hungry?" he asked.
"Starving," she replied before she'd thought about it.
"I'm heading home, was going to stop somewhere to grab some food. Would you like to join me?"
They dropped Oscar off at her mother's house before they found a restaurant. Petal the Pomeranian launched a yapping assault for the first full five minutes, but calmed down when Oscar didn’t react and trotted around the house with her head high giving him a tour of the place. He ambled after her, his nose to the ground. Sarah continued to marvel at how meek the dog had become while she was gone. He padded into her mother's like he'd been there a hundred times before and immediately slumped down on
to the bed Sarah had bought for him but he'd never used. She set it in the kitchen so he could be close to Mum. Though it seemed Mum wasn't sure it was such a good idea at first, she had warmed to him and was feeding him slices of cold sausage before Mick and Sarah walked out the door.
"Your mum's good with dogs," Mick remarked, once they were seated in his truck and driving down the street away from the house.
“Yes, she’s always loved them. Although I was sure she’d object to having a stray in the house - but she’s full of surprises these days."
"Oh?"
Sarah shook her head. "Never mind, it's a long, long and very boring story."
"I've got all night," he said.
She felt a tingle in her chest. He was calm, steady - like a rock. Didn't seem to mind the way she'd rattled on for the entire journey into town - that would've driven Jeremy crazy.
"Get to the point," he'd often admonish her. "I haven't got all day."
Well, it seemed Mick had all night, though she wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean. Perhaps he was only being friendly; it was a saying after all. He wasn't interested in her; he was a friendly guy. And after her recent breakup with Jeremy, she wasn't interested in any kind of romantic relationship.
They ate at the only Mexican restaurant in town, El Torito's. Mick chose the restaurant, and Sarah was delighted since Mexican food was a favourite and she'd discovered El Torito's on one of her first nights back in the Cove. It was a reasonably new establishment, and she'd found it to be delicious, with a magnificent view of the ocean from an elevated balcony.
They sat outside on the balcony and watched the sun set over jewelled waves. Seagulls cawed and fought for the prime position on the balcony railing as close as they dared to the diners. They squawked, dancing with wings half raised until they were pushed off by another bird, then glided into the fading light.
After they ordered their meal, they talked together about what they'd each done with their lives since high school, the cottage, their town. The conversation was warm, easy, familiar. It amazed Sarah how quickly she'd fallen back into a comfortable familiarity with this town and the people who lived there. She had known them years ago and hadn't spent much time at the Cove, no more than a few days here or there, since. But it didn't seem to matter, to them or to her.
It was as if no time had passed at all. Mick had been a schoolmate, years seven to twelve; she had fond memories of surfing the same waves, learning in the same classrooms, laughing over an awkward ballroom dance routine in PE class. But they'd never been close friends. The strange thing was it didn't seem to matter. She felt connected to him, like they'd shared something important that linked them. It was a feeling that'd been missing during her time in Sydney, of being grounded, belonging.
"So, why did you give up architecture?" she asked, after he'd told a funny story about a client from years earlier.
He bit a corn chip, chewed thoughtfully. "I guess I lost my passion for it when my wife left."
Her mouth would've fallen open, but she bit her lip instead. He'd been married? She hadn't expected that. She’d asked around and discovered he was single, but no one had mentioned an ex-wife.
"You were married?"
He nodded, chewing. "Yeah, it didn't last long. Only about five years."
"Five years seems like a long time to me."
"I guess…although I thought it'd be forever, so five years is a drop in the bucket." His lips pursed. "She had an affair with my best mate. So, it was over, just like that, and I didn't have much of a say in the matter. They were in love, I discovered. Had been for a long time. I didn't wait around to find out more. I sold the house, packed up my stuff, closed down my architecture practice and headed for home."
"Wow. I'm so sorry that happened. It must've been heart-breaking." Sarah's throat ached for him. That her father had recently done something similar awoke a pain inside that worked its way from her gut until it constricted her throat.
"Thanks, it was a while ago now. Four years, actually. When I left Canberra, I was gutted. I thought I wouldn't recover. I lost my best friend as well as my wife, and the business I'd spent the past two years building… It was rough. But since I've been back, I've discovered that I love renovating old buildings, bringing aged structures back to life. The old stuff is so much more beautiful, more interesting, than anything modern architects and designers are doing."
Sarah nodded. "I agree. I love old buildings too."
"And I missed the Cove while I was gone. Canberra's a pretty town, but it's full of politicians, lobbyists and public servants - they all wear suits and flounce around the place like they're doing something special. All I want to do is work with my hands, build things…and then go for a surf."
Sarah laughed. "I can't imagine you flouncing…so it was probably a good call. And I know what you mean. I didn't even realise I missed the Cove until I got back here. I haven't started surfing again, but the ocean's calling my name."
"You've got to do it…get out there. There's nothing quite like it. In fact, you should come out with me sometime. It'll be fun. Like old times."
They'd surfed side by side many times during their teenaged years, along with the rest of their group of friends. Mick had been two years ahead of her in school, so she hadn't spent much time with him other than out on the waves.
She offered a half smile. Could she still surf? It'd been so long since she'd tried she was certain she'd overbalance and land nose first on her board, or plunge into the ocean with her rear in the air.
"Okay, I'll try to dig up my old surfboard at Mum's."
"You'll do it?"
"Yeah, I'm in."
Chapter 27
Sarah
The hum of traffic behind her, Sarah walked through the automatic glass doors into the Foodstore. She waved hello to the checkout operators. Sylvia had worked at the grocery store for as long as Sarah could remember. Her hair was entirely grey now, but otherwise she still looked the same.
"Good morning, Syl!" she called.
Sylvia grinned, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. "Mornin', sweetheart, how's that cottage of yours coming along?"
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Slowly. I'm living in a construction zone, and even when I leave, I can still hear hammering and sawing in my head.”
"Ah well, it'll be worth it in the end, love."
Sarah shook her head. "I sure hope so. Gonna grab some groceries, see you in a bit."
Sylvia returned her attention to the customer at her checkout, and Sarah pulled a shopping trolley from a line of them and pushed it ahead down an aisle. The trolley leaned to one side and kept trying to knock into the displays and rows of cans that lined the aisle.
Sarah grimaced and leaned harder on the trolley. She hadn't been exercising as much lately as she usually did. Her core had suffered and gotten a little pudgier than she liked it to be, but never mind, pushing the trolley while shopping was all the workout her stomach muscles would need that day.
"Is that Sarah Flannigan?" A woman's voice stopped Sarah in her tracks. She spun to face the speaker.
"Oh, hi, Mrs Bunyan."
Her old Physical Education teacher stood, hands on athletic hips, all long, tanned legs and rippling muscular arms.
"Well, I heard you were back, but it's good to see you in person."
Sarah had always enjoyed PE classes at school, especially when Mrs Bunyan had taken them all surfing. She'd been a fun teacher, and one Sarah had learned a lot from about self-discipline and teamwork.
"Is it true you left your editing job? Because that seemed like a really great career…"
Sarah's eyes narrowed. "No…I'm still working for Greenmount Publishing, just from home now rather than in the Sydney office."
"Oh, that's good to hear. I'd hate for you to give up on all that potential. You were a gifted student."
"Thanks." Sarah smiled, her cheeks warming.
"When's the next Jeremy Goodall thriller coming out? I sure love those books." Mrs Bunyan
's interrogation was interrupted by Marg from the deli section.
"Now you leave Sarah alone, Mandy!" she called across the store.
Mrs Bunyan's brow furrowed with irritation, and she waved a hand in Marg's direction. "Oh shush, you old hag."
"What did you call me?" Marg's voice deepened. "She doesn't need you asking her a million questions about her life. Let her shop for her groceries."
Mrs Bunyan turned her back on Marg. "Is it true you were dating Jeremy Goodall? He seems like such a nice fellow…good looking too…and of course, his books are amazing." Her eyes glowed, and she leaned forward, awaiting Sarah's response.
Marg appeared at Mrs Bunyan's side. "What are you asking her about? Let her be… My goodness!"
Sarah chewed the inside of her cheek. She hated confrontation.
"Oh wow, look at the time…"
"Now you've upset the girl," Mrs Bunyan said, slapping Marg on the shoulder.
Marg's eyes widened, her blue hair almost seeming to quiver with rage. She faced Sarah, pushed a smile to her pink-painted lips. "You'll have to excuse my sister, she's always been nosier than was good for her."
Sarah had forgotten they were sisters. She sighed with relief. "Oh yeah, don't worry about it. I don't mind."
“Everyone's so curious about you, what you're doing here, why you moved back, what you're going to do next, when we might see that handsome Jeremy fellow in town…" Marg's smile grew wider as she and Mrs Bunyan both stared at Sarah now, waiting for answers.
"Well…um…I'm not working on Jeremy's books anymore. So, I'm sorry I can't help you on that one."
"Is it because you broke up?" Marg asked.
Sarah's lips pursed, sweat beading across her forehead. She understood how people must've felt during the Spanish Inquisition. "Uh…well, that's part of it. We're no longer engaged."
"I told you so." Mrs Bunyan turned to face her sister.
Marg frowned. "I know you did, but it's not like I didn't guess anyway. He's nowhere to be seen. It's pretty obvious, don't act like you've got some kind of inside scoop."
