by Lilly Mirren
She focused her attention on the door, heard a commotion as Franklin pushed through the front. A shout. A bang, the thunder of footsteps on hardwood. He was headed her way.
With muscles flexed, she braced herself. He launched through the back door, long blond hair obscuring his vision.
"Stop! Police!" she shouted.
He hesitated for a moment, then surged forward, his weight knocking her down as he leapt. They landed on the ground as one, him on top of her. She grunted with the impact but held onto her breath. When he lurched to his feet, she jumped up behind him and ran.
He was quick, but so was she. He glanced over his shoulder at her, his feet slapping on the sand as he aimed for the bike. Surprise clouded his face when he saw how close she was.
Thad slowed as they neared the bike, fumbling in his pocket for something - no doubt he was looking for the keys. It gave her the chance she needed. She was a foot shorter than he was, so when she jumped, she made sure to aim high. Her arms went around him as her shoulder collided with his back, sending him flying. He fell forward, landing face-first in the grass with her on his back.
In a moment, he'd rolled over and punched her so hard on one cheek that stars danced before her eyes. When she punched him back, he shouted out a curse.
He landed a few more hits to her torso before she caught a hold of one hand and twisted it back. She forced him to roll over and cuffed him in one movement.
That was when she saw the knife. A short blade fell from his hand onto the sand by her foot. She studied it, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of blood on the blade. Whose blood? Had he been injured?
"Rebecca!" Franklin called, limping up behind her. He rested a hand on her shoulder. "Good work, Constable."
"Thank you, sir."
"What's that? A knife?" he asked.
She issued a quick nod. "Looks like it."
"Whose blood?" he asked.
She shrugged, even as a hint of pain began in her gut. She pressed a hand to it, then drew it back to see red. It was her blood.
Franklin took a hold of Thad by the cuffs and forced him to his feet, then walked to the shack while he relayed the arrest details to the office on his radio. He sat Thad on the back steps, finished up the call and fixed Thad's cuffs around the porch railing.
Rebecca lurched to her feet, her head a little light. She wandered in Franklin's direction, then sank to her knees. He saw her and ran.
"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
She nodded, held up a hand covered in blood. "The knife…"
His nostrils flared. "Base, we need an ambulance at the previously relayed address. Officer hurt. I repeat, officer hurt."
He fell to his knees beside her. "Where is it?"
She lifted her shirt to show him a short, red line just below her body armour on the right side.
He shook his head, tugged off his own vest, then removed his white t-shirt and pressed it to the wound. "Hold this here."
She pressed her hand to the shirt as he donned his vest again. Then, she shifted until she lay in the dirt on her back. Her head spun. She hadn't lost much blood, so it must be shock. She was a little dazed, nothing too serious. If it was serious, she'd have bled more. Not that she knew it for a fact, not really. It made sense though. She was well rehearsed in how to get herself through the shock of an injury. She stared at the sky as gradually it turned a light shade of pink and clouds sailed overhead.
When Franklin took her hand, it caught her by surprise. She almost pulled it away but decided she liked the feel of it.
"What were you thinking?" he asked, his voice laced with exasperation.
"I wanted to stop him."
"Why did you go after him like that? Risk your life that way? It's not worth it. We would've caught up with him eventually."
She shook her head, winced. "I couldn't let you down again. I've got your back, Sarge.”
He huffed and shook his head, his eyes gleaming. "You didn't let me down. Hold on, the ambulance will be here soon."
His other hand pressed on top of hers, so her hand was sandwiched in between his. Rebecca's eyes drifted shut as a smile tickled the corners of her mouth. She hadn't let another thug knock her around, not this time. This time, she'd won the battle, and she'd never let anyone get the upper hand on her again.
Chapter 44
Meg
The popcorn stuck to her lap - one piece here, another there. It was the caramel, she guessed. Caramel popcorn was stickier than the regular kind. Meg raised a hand and ran it over her hair - something sticky in there too. It might be more popcorn, or it could be the ice cream. She'd dished it out pretty liberally and hadn't washed it off her hands before pulling her hair back into a messy ponytail. That was probably it - ice cream.
Popcorn and ice cream weren't her usual choice for dinner, but what did it matter now? She only had herself to feed, and she hadn't felt like cooking after working overtime at the salon. Being on her feet all day, talking to every customer who sat in her chair, it all exhausted her in a way it hadn't ever done before.
She missed Brad. Somehow, she'd messed everything up. He hadn't written to her since her visit to Brisbane and the kiss that'd ruined their visit. If only she hadn't tried to kiss him, maybe they'd still be talking or at least writing. Instead, he'd made it clear he wanted nothing more to do with her. Even Vicky had suggested, in her loving and gentle way, that it might be time to move on with her life.
With a sigh, she lifted the remote to flick through the channels. Beneath her, something sharp protruded into her back. She tugged it free – ah, that's where the cheese grater was. She'd been looking for it. Perhaps she'd left it on the couch when she was sprinkling extra mozzarella onto the pizza she'd ordered the night before, and it'd fallen into the cracks between the cushions.
She glanced around the small unit - she'd never been a slob in her life before, but now her apartment looked as though a dozen lazy teenagers all called it home.
There was a knock at the door, and the handful of popcorn she was holding scattered across the couch cushion. She watched the pieces roll into cracks and crevices and onto the floor with a grimace. Oh well, who was she trying to impress anyway?
She ran a hand over her hair and strolled to the door. The knock resounded again, echoing through the small unit. "Keep your pants on, I'm coming!" she shouted.
Who would be visiting her at that time of night anyway? She'd planned on falling into bed in a few minutes, completely and utterly exhausted from the day and from the sadness that had gripped her soul ever since she returned from Brisbane.
She flung the door open, a frown on her face. "Brad?"
He'd begun to wheel his chair back down the hall when she stopped him. He turned to face her. "Hi, Meg. Can I come in?"
Meg brushed the popcorn from the couch with one hand into the palm of the other and hurried into the kitchen to throw it in the rubbish bin. The kitchen was awash with dirty dishes, plates and silverware. Half-eaten food sat out on the bench, open packets, rubbish and crumbs. Her face flushed with warmth.
"I wasn't expecting you. Did you call? I haven't been checking my phone much…worked all day."
He sat in the living room watching her, his eyes trained on her - there was warmth there behind the green. A warmth she hadn't seen in a long time.
"Come and sit down," he said softly.
"In a minute, the entire place is a pigsty. I'm sorry… Like I said, I wasn't expecting visitors, and I've been feeling a bit…well, sorry for myself, actually." Her cheeks burned hotter still. It was humiliating enough for him to find her in this state, to let him know it was because his rejection felt like a stab to the gut.
"I don't care about the mess, Meggy. Please, come and sit - I want to talk to you."
She threw a packet of half-eaten crackers that'd gone stale into the bin, then wiped her hands down the front of her shorts with a sigh. "Okay."
She sat, straight-backed, across from him. Whatever else he had to say, she ho
ped he'd get it over with as quickly as possible. There was only so much rejection a person could take - even Meg, after a lifetime of it, could only stomach so much when it came from the man she loved.
"Relax," he said with a chuckle.
She shifted in her seat. "I'm relaxed. What's up?"
"Why haven't you filed the annulment yet?"
Her lips pursed. That was what this was about? He'd come all this way to push her, to hurry the end of their marriage. Her throat tightened. She coughed to clear it, stuck out her chin. "I'll get around to it. Are you back at university yet?"
He nodded. "I'm enrolled, I'll be starting classes next semester. It's not the only thing that's changed, there are other things too…"
"I'm glad. I want to hear about all of it. I think it's really great you're doing that. You're going to do so well at whatever you put your hand to in life, I just know it."
His eyes crinkled at the corners. "We'll talk about everything, but first - you didn't answer my question. Why haven't you filed the annulment yet?"
She frowned. "I don't want to."
"Really? I thought we decided it was for the best."
"You decided," she interrupted. "I didn't, and I haven't made up my mind. I'll get to it when I'm ready, and right now, I'm not ready. What's the rush, anyway?"
He shrugged. "No rush, I only wanted to know what was holding you back."
She shook her head with a huff. "What's holding me back? Are you serious? I fell in love with a man, vowed to spend the rest of my life with him - which was no small thing, let me tell you. I'd decided I never wanted to get married after I saw the way my father treated my mother and the way they both neglected me - so for me to tell you that I loved you and wanted to commit my life to you was a big deal!" Her voice grew louder as she spoke, her cheeks flamed, and a lump filled her throat.
"And then you want me to annul that commitment, because you've been injured?" Tears oozed from her eyes. "I can't do it, Brad. Don't you see that? I love you, that hasn't changed. I don't have a family - you're it for me. You're my family, my love, my best friend. My whole world is wrapped up in you." She choked on a sob. "So, no - I haven't gotten around to filing an annulment just yet."
His eyes glistened with tears. "I was hoping you'd say that. I'm so sorry for what I put you through."
Her eyes widened. "Oh, Brad… It wasn't your fault."
He held up a hand. "No, don't say that. I lashed out. I didn't want you to be tied to me forever like this - I thought it would be best for you to let you go. So you could find someone else, make the kind of life with them that we'd talked about having. It wasn't fair to you…having to take care of me for the rest of your life." He choked on the words; his nostrils flared as he gathered himself. "But then you didn't sign the papers, didn't file. I gave you an opening, a chance to cut and run…and you didn't. So, I started to hope that maybe there was a chance you loved me more than I gave you credit for. Not just the man who was strong, virile, who won surfing championships on the telly, but the real me, disabilities and all."
She shook her head, unable to speak as tears slid down her cheeks.
"I was so angry, sweetheart. Angry at the world, angry at God, angry at myself… I took it out on you because I wanted you to walk away, to be free. But if you're not going anywhere…"
"I'm not," she simply said, her voice thick with emotion.
"I don't deserve you, and I don't know what comes next…but I'd like us to give our marriage a chance. That is, if you still want to."
She nodded, blinked against the flow of tears.
Brad wheeled his chair forward, reached for her face and cradled it between his hands. His eyes were full of love as they fixed on hers. He studied her with a smile that tugged gently at the corners of his mouth.
"What about…?" she began.
"Shhh," he said. "I love you too."
Then he kissed her. His lips connected with hers, their warmth sending a spark through her body. Her hands found him then, weaving around his neck, fingers entwined in his hair as she pulled him closer. He lifted her from the couch and sat her on his lap. She nestled against his chest, heaving as sobs burst from her mouth.
"Please don't ever leave me," she whispered.
His arms encircled her, pulled tight. "I won't."
Chapter 45
Sarah
Everything was in its place. Sarah lay on her back, hands laced together behind her head, staring at the ceiling and the small chandelier she'd hung moments earlier. The final touch to a room that felt warm, welcoming and like the home she'd longed for ever since she'd left her childhood one. Well, different than what she'd thought she wanted, but better. It suited her in a way she hadn't expected, and it felt like a victory, like she'd created a life for herself. She'd worked to build something unexpected yet beautiful, and it was hers and hers alone. A place to live her life, the kind of life that fit her more than any of the idea she'd believed was hers. A picture that stemmed from a desire to recreate a world that she could now see was nothing but a straw house destined to burn to the ground.
She hadn't realised there'd been a piece of her heart missing until she'd recently begun having dreams. Every few months, she'd dream of the house she grew up in, of running into her mother's arms, play wrestling with her father, dolls with her sister, swimming in the pool with her brother. Then she'd wake up sobbing, pain throbbing in her chest, as intense feelings of homesickness washed over her.
Home.
It was something she hadn’t had, ever since she'd left home at eighteen to attend university miles away from the Cove. The intensity of her desire to find a home left her feeling spent when she woke in the morning after one of those dreams. And now she had the cottage, and it finally felt like a home to her. She felt whole, complete; was content in herself and her life for the first time in a long time.
She grinned at the ceiling.
A glance at her phone revealed no missed calls, no waiting voicemails. It seemed Jeremy had finally gotten the message. He'd stopped calling, trying to get in contact, had even requested she be removed from his editorial team - which she'd agreed to immediately. He was finally out of her life, and it felt like a weight had been lifted. She wished him nothing but happiness, but whatever life he chose, she didn't want to be part of it.
Even though it was what she'd wanted, there was a hollow longing in her heart for what they'd shared. The early days of their relationship had her hoping about what was to come, how they'd spend their lives together, raise children, build a home. It'd been hard to walk away from all of that - things that she still truly desired, just not with Jeremy.
Her phone buzzed, jolting her from her reverie. She'd been waiting to hear from Meg, had been checking on her daily to make sure she was okay. She and Vicky had teamed up to send Meg encouraging messages, call her before bedtime, then again in the morning. Between the two of them, they intended to help pull her from the miserable slump she'd fallen into since visiting Brad.
She held the phone to her ear. "Hello?"
"It's Mick, how are you?"
Her heart skipped a beat. "Mick, it's good to hear from you. I hung the chandelier in the living room."
"Oh yeah? How does it look?"
"It's looks perfect." She sat up, crossed her legs and spun in place to look around the cottage. "The whole place looks and feels amazing. I couldn't have dreamed of anything better - you and the guys did such a great job. It really feels like a home now. Thank you."
"I'm glad we could help out. Hey, listen - I heard what you said when I was there a few weeks ago, but I'd like to talk. Can I come over?"
"Sure, that'd be nice. I'll make us something to eat."
When she hung up, Sarah hurried to the refrigerator to look for something they could eat. She found some vegetables and cooked prawns, along with rice paper, and quickly got to work making rice paper rolls. By the time she'd made her favourite dipping sauce of soy, rice wine vinegar and sesame oil, the beam of headlights
sliced across the kitchen wall through the shuttered window.
Her heart thudded against her rib cage, and sweat beaded on her forehead, even though it was cool in the cottage. She walked over to the oil heater she'd found in her mother's basement and turned down the dial just as there was a knock on the front door.
"Coming!" she called.
When she opened the door, she found Mick leaning against the frame - all lanky muscles and mussed blond hair.
She stepped aside. "Come on in."
They sat at the small, round dining table and ate, exchanging small talk. Then, they took glasses of wine out onto the porch. Sarah wrapped a thick, woollen shawl around her shoulders and shivered. "It's cold out here."
He laughed, shoving hands into his jeans pockets. "It's snowing in Victoria."
"Wish I was skiing at Fall's Creek," she said.
"You and me, both."
It was comfortable chatting together - talking but not saying much of anything at all. Although, Sarah was acutely aware that he'd come to see her for a reason, and whatever it was, he'd decided to wait before addressing it.
She sat in silence, her shawl pulled tight as she tucked her legs up to her chest and looked out at the clear night sky, stars winking close. If she tried she could reach out and pluck them from the inky blanket. She knew all of a sudden she was ready. For more, for him.
"I had to see you." His voice was deep; it drew her in.
She faced him, only seeing an outline in the darkness. He was backlit by the soft glow of the chandelier in the sitting room through the bifold glass doors.
"I'm glad you called. I've missed you," she simply said.
He leaned forward, took her hand and held it between his. "I know you said you weren't ready for anything more than friendship between us, but I can't stop thinking about you - about us and what we could be giving up. I've been down the road to commitment before, with the wrong person. I know what that feels like, and it isn't like this. This feels right in a way I've never experienced. I know you feel it too…" His voice trembled.
