by Lilly Mirren
Kate laughed. “Tell us what you really think, Bindi.”
“Please?”
“Okay. Fine, we won’t tell Reeda. But so you know, I’m not comfortable keeping things from her.”
Bindi grinned and embraced Kate. Kate groaned. “You’re squeezing the life out of me.”
Bindi laughed. “You’re such a drama queen.”
As Bindi walked away, Kate’s heart lifted at the sight of her sister’s happy, swinging gait. Lately, Bindi had seemed low, so out of sorts, it was good to see something lift her spirits.
“I’m going to Brisbane in a few minutes to pack up my unit,” she called after her sister.
Bindi waved a hand above her head and kept walking. She’d already offered to help, but Kate had turned her down. They needed Bindi to stay here, keep things going while Kate was gone. It’d probably take her a few days to get everything packed up and put away. She’d move most of it to a storage unit she’d rented in Tweed Heads, and the few things she needed she’d move into the inn. They weren’t renovating upstairs yet, so the bedrooms were still liveable.
With a sigh, she took in the construction crew, busily hammering, sawing and lugging equipment across the dust-covered grass. She hoped Nan would be happy about what they were doing, though she’d likely have been horrified by the amount of demolition involved. Still, if they wanted to build a modern structure enticing enough to attract tourist dollars, sacrifice was necessary, as Reeda had explained to Bindi when she’d cried over the removal of the internal walls.
So much about her life had changed over the past few weeks. And yesterday she’d lost Davis and kissed Alex. Her face burned as the memory of the startled look on his face leapt into her mind. She shouldn’t have done it. But he’d looked so appealing, standing in front of her dripping wet, eyes dark with compassion. And she’d been rejected, only moments earlier, by the man who said he’d love her forever. It’d been an impulse, nothing more. She’d apologise — but maybe not yet. Not until enough time had passed for the shock to wear off. Or perhaps he’d forget the whole thing and she could pretend it’d never happened.
Thankfully, Alex wasn’t at the inn today. He was no doubt teaching impressionable teenagers about things like polynomials and equations. She wondered what kind of teacher he was. She was certain that she and her high school girlfriends back in Sydney would’ve had an enormous crush on him. By the time she’d moved to Kingscliff High, she’d been too swamped in grief to think about romance or cute teachers.
Kate headed for the house to find her purse. It’d be strange to go home and not see Davis. She’d lined up coffee dates with a few of her closest friends over the next two days, but otherwise needed to focus her time and energy on getting everything packed up. The movers and cleaners were coming in two days’ time and she had a lot of work to do before then.
As she glanced around the bedroom, mentally checking off the list of things she’d need for the trip north, she spotted Nan’s wooden box on the bedside table. She pulled out the journal she’d been reading and slid it carefully into her purse. She’d need something to do this evening when she was exhausted with packing and was dying to find answers to some of the questions she couldn’t shake. Like what’d happened to Nan’s baby? Did it survive the fall? Was the baby Dad, like she’d thought, or was he Pop’s child after all? Did Charlie have anything to do with their family or was he simply Nan’s one-time, and long forgotten, lover?
22
October 1995
Cabarita Beach
Ginger’s hooves pounded along the hard, wet sand and Kate held on tight with her legs, her hands clutching a bunch of Ginger’s mane along with the reins.
It’d been a long time since she’d ridden anywhere bareback, but she’d decided to take a ride along the beach with the sun setting behind her. It was a delicious evening. She hadn’t gone riding nearly often enough since she moved back to Cabarita and didn’t want to bother with the saddle. After all the work she’d done around the inn that week, gap-filling, painting, and sanding the upstairs hallway, she could barely move her arms, let alone lift a saddle onto a seventeen-hand-high horse’s broad back.
Above her, the sky had turned a dark blue with patches of cloud, but behind her it was all pinks, yellows, and streaks of white. She glanced over her shoulder, her hair swishing in her face with each stride the horse took beneath her. It was beautiful. If only she could hold on long enough to get back to the inn without tumbling off and breaking something. That was all she could hope for now, since she’d lost all control over Ginger.
She’d tried pulling the horse to a stop, but apparently the animal had dreams of hay, oats and maybe a good tail rub on the fence post by the paddock gate driving her on. Ginger had scratched against that post so often it leaned at an odd angle, as though it might tip over at any moment. And the fence wires woven around its girth held strands of chestnut hair sticking out in every direction.
Kate could try again, or she could hold on and enjoy the ride. The wind whipped at her face, cold and with a hint of sea spray. She saw the path that led back to the inn in the distance, they’d be there before long. She shivered as the sun continued its descent. She really should’ve worn something other than a summer dress. Although, it’d been so hot when she finished work that she hadn’t considered it.
The visit from the developer had played on her mind over and over. Bindi was adamant they say nothing to Reeda, but she didn’t want to keep anything from her older sister. She knew how much that kind of thing upset Reeda. Her sister valued honesty more than she did just about anything else. What would happen when she discovered they’d kept it from her? It was likely she’d push them to take the deal, which was what Bindi was afraid of, but it didn’t mean they had to do it. As Nan requested, they’d all have to agree before they’d change course, and Kate couldn’t imagine Bindi would budge when it came to the Waratah’s fate. She seemed to have made her decision and from what Kate could tell, she was sticking to it.
At least the three sisters were genuinely beginning to get along. Better than they had in years. Perhaps it was why she didn’t want anything, like hiding the developer’s offer from Reeda, to get in the way of that. Nan was right, she needed her sisters now more than ever. Everything else in her life had dissolved in the blink of any eye. The career she’d spent years building, the relationship she’d invested her time, heart, and soul into, all of it was gone and now she only had her family and the inn.
She could go back to Brisbane tomorrow and start again, but she didn’t want to. Losing Nan, inheriting the inn, finding the journals, and reading Nan’s letter — it’d changed everything for her. Her perspective had shifted in a different direction. She couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see things the way she used to — success, prestige, money — none of it meant what it had. And it could be whisked away again in a flash, as it already had.
Suddenly, Ginger slowed, then stopped. She turned to the water, dropped her nose to the remnants of a wave that lapped at her hooves and sniffed. She jerked her head in an upward arc, pushing her jaw forward and loosening Kate’s grip on the reins, then lowered her head and took a step.
The ocean lay still. The wind had died down and the water rose and fell like a woman sighing. Kate remembered taking Janet into the ocean on days like this when she was young. They’d swim together, Janet’s legs propelling them forward and Kate holding on by a handful of mane, her body floating above the horse’s submerged back.
If Ginger wanted to swim, she wouldn’t stop her. She leaned forward and stroked the animal’s neck.
“You want to go swimming?”
Ginger continued forward. A small wave splashed her whiskered nose and she shook her head with a snort. Then, stepped over it and kept going. Before long, the water had reached Kate’s thighs. She gasped as the cold seeped into her dress and up to her waist. Then, she pushed her legs out behind her and floated, while Ginger pressed forward and launched into a swim, with steady, rhythmic beats. The hor
se’s head hovered over the water and her nostrils flared, she panted hard and paddled in a circular direction back to the beach, heaving free of the water. When she reached the dry sand, Ginger stopped still, dripping.
Kate smiled, her heart soaring as she shivered. The freedom she’d felt brought a bubble of laughter to her lips. Her entire body was covered with goosebumps and her teeth chattered. The water had been frigid, and now the sky was filling with angry-looking clouds that churned and hustled overhead, jostling each other for space. The wind picked up and Kate smelled rain in its gusts.
“I think we should head back to the inn,” whispered Kate, sliding her hand across Ginger’s dripping coat.
She pressed her heels to the horse’s sides and Ginger broke into a trot. Before long, they reached the stables. Just as Kate slid from Ginger’s back, there was a crack of lightning. Her heart stood still, the sound of the thunder that came on its heels making Ginger dance in place. Then, the rain poured from the heavens like water tipped from a bucket. Giant, fat raindrops landed on her face, shoulders, chest, immediately plastering her hair to her head.
She undid the bridle and set Ginger free to run with the other horses in the paddock. Ginger galloped to meet the group, her tail swishing. Kate stood in the rain watching her go, then peered up at the sky. The clouds had a faint greenish hue to them, it could mean hail. She should bring the horses into the new stable and rub them down.
Kate jogged into the stables, then through to the storeroom. She found a bucket, threw some corn and oats into it, then hurried to stand on the bottom rail of the fence. She shook the bucket and called to the horses. They didn’t hear her at first. The rain pummelled the stable’s tin roof, drowning out the sound of her voice to her own ears. The horses milled about at the far end of the enclosure, then Ginger saw her and pricked her ears forward. Kate raised the bucket higher still and shook it again, shouting to Ginger as loud as she could.
Ginger plodded toward Kate, then broke into a trot, her ears flicking back toward the group then forward to Kate. The other three horses watched with interest, then followed. And soon Kate had all four of the animals secured in stalls, munching happily on their own buckets of corn and oats.
She stepped into Ginger’s stall with a towel and rubbed the animal down. When she was done, she headed for the next stall, but stopped when she heard the roar of an engine above the thunder of rain. There was a carport beside the stables. They’d built it for Nan’s truck, but it had room for two vehicles in case they ever had need to buy a tractor or four-wheeler. The last had been Kate’s suggestion, but Reeda and Bindi hadn’t gone for it. There were so many other things they needed first, they’d said. Kate had grumbled over it but agreed. She’d thought it would be fun to ride on the beach but could admit it wasn’t strictly a necessity.
Alex’s truck pulled into the space beside Nan’s, its red paint gleaming with rain. He switched off the headlights and the gloom of a rainy twilight settled back into place. Kate’s pulse accelerated. What was Alex doing here? She’d planned on avoiding him, but she could hardly make a run for it now. He’d already seen her, besides which it was bucketing down.
Instead of hiding, she waved. He climbed out of the truck, a crease between his brows.
“Kate? I wasn’t expecting to see you out here.”
She hugged herself, suddenly aware that she was in only a summer dress and that the dress clung to every part of her body. She was soaked, her hair painted against her head and drops of water dribbling down the sides of her face.
“I went for a ride and got caught in the rain,” she explained, her teeth still knocking together.
“You’re freezing,” he said.
He opened the back door of the truck and pulled out a blanket, then wrapped it around her shoulders.
She held onto it and offered him a grateful smile, tugging it tighter around her numb body. “Thanks.”
“I’d offer you an umbrella, but I don’t have one,” he said with a shrug. “But I could drive you back to the inn — door to door service.”
She nodded. “Thanks, but I think I’ll be fine. I can’t get any more wet than I am.”
He chuckled. “That’s true.”
“I didn’t know you were working this evening…” Her teeth had stopped chattering, but she still shivered, and it made her voice sound thin.
“Ah… I’m not. Actually, I saw the storm rolling in and was worried about the horses.”
Just then, there was a loud bang on the roof overhead, followed by another. Soon, the clatter of hail on the roof filled the air. Rough edged balls of it bounced against the ground around the stables. Another crack of thunder made her jump.
“Wow, that was close,” she said.
“I can’t see the horses, so I guess you brought them in already?” he asked, his gaze making a quick sweep of the sodden paddock.
She nodded. “They’re in the stalls.”
“Good.” He strode around the stables, checking on each of the animals, stroking a neck here, fixing a bucket there and speaking gently to them in a low voice.
Kate watched the hail slow, then it was replaced once again by rain with only the occasional hailstone.
She pressed her back to the stable wall and slid down until her rear rested on the ground. She’d wait it out. While there were still hailstones falling from the sky, she wouldn’t risk the hundred metre dash to the inn.
Soon, Alex joined her. He lowered himself onto the hay-strewn ground beside her and rested his elbows on bent knees, hands linked together between them.
“So, thanks for taking care of the horses,” he said.
She shrugged. “I was here…”
“Still…”
She smiled. “You’re welcome. And thank you for always taking care of them. It helps take a load off my mind to know you’ve got it under control.”
“You have a lot going on,” he replied.
“I wanted to apologise,” she said, suddenly.
He turned to her. “Oh?”
“For kissing you the other day on the beach… I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. I don’t know if you’re single, and it was inappropriate…”
“Forget it,” he responded. “And I am.”
Her brow furrowed. “You are what?”
“Single,” he replied with a laugh.
“Oh, good to know. Me too… newly single.”
He quirked an eyebrow, and she waggled her newly nude finger at him.
His lips pursed. “Ah… I’m sorry to hear that.”
Her cheeks burned. “No, I’m sorry. For the kiss, I mean.”
“If it makes you feel any better, it was a really good kiss,” he replied.
She turned to him, her face still flushed, and met his gaze. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She grinned. “It was… really great.”
They stared at each other, both smiling, gazes entwined. Electricity crept up into her gut and then her chest, her breaths deepening. “So, why are you single? A guy like you, a hot high school teacher, you should have your pick of the single women in Kingscliff.” It was the nearest town. Cabarita itself wasn’t more than a hamlet or village, but Kingscliff had shops, restaurants, the high school where Alex taught. Compared with Cabarita it was a virtual metropolis. There was bound to be plenty of single women vying for his attention.
He sighed and leaned his head back against the wall, staring vacantly into the falling rain. “I’ve been married. I guess I haven’t wanted to jump back into anything. Not yet anyway.”
That surprised her. She hadn’t considered that he might be divorced, although it made sense. Now that she was in her late twenties, whenever she met a single man, she had to assume he had a past. Some kind of serious relationship that hadn’t worked out for whatever reason.
“Ah, you’re divorced?” she asked.
He shook his head. “My wife died of cancer about three years ago. We were living down south, in Coffs Harbour, both teachers a
t the same high school. I’d lived there my whole life, apart from the years I spent at uni in Newcastle. But after she died, I couldn’t stay any longer. Too many memories, too much sadness. That’s when I moved up here.”
Kate’s throat tightened. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise.”
“It’s fine. It was a long time ago.”
She bit her lower lip. Why had she blurted out that question about divorce?
He met her gaze. “She’d want me to be happy, I know that, but I can’t seem to get there. It’s better now than it was. Time heals, they say. And I guess it does, but only because the memories fade. At first, every time I laughed or smiled, I’d feel bad, like I was betraying her somehow. Now, I can do those things without guilt, but I think I’ve forgotten how.”
Kate set her hand on his arm. “You’ll figure it out.”
“You reckon?” he offered her a wan smile.
“Yeah, I do. You’re strong, I can tell that already. You’ll find your way back.”
He looked down at her hand, then lifted it with his own pressed his lips to the back of it. Goosebumps travelled up her arm and her heart skipped a beat.
When he met her gaze, her entire body quivered with anticipation. He wanted to kiss her; she could see it in his eyes. But it might be a mistake, would be a mistake. He was grieving, she was newly single — and she was his boss. She’d already apologised for one inappropriate kiss; she shouldn’t let it happen again. Only, she couldn’t seem to move. Her body was frozen to the spot. He inched closer, his stare drifting to her lips.
When he kissed her, sparks bounced from her lips through her body, all the way to her toes. She’d never been kissed like it before — soft, gentle, yet firm and demanding all at the same time. Her eyes drifted shut and her hands curled around behind his neck as he shifted toward her, his own hands cupping her cheeks. Their first kiss on the beach had left an impression, but this kiss took her breath away.
