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In near-darkness, Christie stood at Dorothy’s grave, wondering what on earth was wrong with herself. Gran had thrown away marriage after marriage. Pushed away everyone who loved her. Lived a lonely life for decades. I don’t want that!
Hands clenched, Christie stalked away. What if she was making the same mistake with Martin that she’d made with Derek? So desperate to be loved, she’d allowed Derek to move in with her only weeks after meeting him. And her life was good. Fulfilled, busy, successful. But not happy.
At the side of the road she waited for a car to pass. The driver tooted and Daphne waved madly as she and John passed. The tension drained away the moment Christie waved back at the couple who’d been the first to welcome her to town all those months ago. This wasn’t her old life. This was her hang-up, not Martin’s. He had no idea of her state of mind. Imagining a proposal not once but twice in a couple of days was silly.
The old railway station loomed on the right through the trees lining her street. Once the hub for transport and freight for the region, the old buildings were long deserted and falling apart. Nobody ever stepped onto the platform to wait for a loved one to return.
Clank.
Like a dropped piece of metal, the sound reverberated from somewhere along the line, startling Christie. She opened the torch app on her phone.
There was the crack of a branch, or maybe just the wind in the trees, closer now.
“Hello? Who’s there?” Christie’s eyes shot from one side of the road to the other, following the light from her phone. There was no answer. She hurried to the driveway.
At the gate she paused, glancing back. It must have been an animal, perhaps a possum or kangaroo. Her imagination was on overdrive. Unfamiliar fear crept into her mind and she rushed past the Lotus to the back door.
***
The cottage was a mess. Scattered throughout the hallway, kitchen, and lounge room were leftover pieces of plaster and debris. The dining room and lounge room – now the main focus of the renovation – housed piles of paint-splattered drop sheets, ladders, and an assortment of plasterboards.
Christie leaned against the doorway to the lounge room. She’d got the workmen to throw the old sofa into the rubbish bin out the front. After stepping over the drop sheets, she ran a hand over the marble mantelpiece. It needed to come off so Barry’s men could repair large cracks in the wall behind it. Not long ago, a seascape had hung above the fireplace, repaired and framed by Martin. Now it belonged to Thomas and Martha, back with its artist and the woman he painted it for.
Hungry, she navigated around the mess to the kitchen. Behind a bottle of wine she found some leftover chili con carne. As it heated, she made good use of the short wait to open the wine. The moment she sat at the table, Martin’s ringtone filled the room.
“Do you mind doing the talking?”
“Why?”
“Eating.” Without waiting for an answer, she took a mouthful. “Mmm.”
He chuckled. “Very good. Sorry about earlier, just never know how long these things take.”
“S’okay.”
“S’okay? No, don’t answer. You’re not making any sense.” He paused, sipping on something. Probably whiskey. “When I finished the call about the new commission, I got one from Thomas.”
Almost choking in an attempt to swallow, Christie grabbed her wine and forced the food down. “Are they o-okay?” She coughed a bit at the end.
“I thought you wanted me to do the talking? They are fine. Loving it in fact. Thomas wants you to know that Martha’s little house is a lot like your cottage, except it has a front door.”
“You didn’t ask him about my front door? Oh my goodness! If he wants a front door, then there will be one when they get back and that way they can have the cottage. Oh, I’m so happy!”
“Are you quite finished?” He was amused. “No, I didn’t. We got onto other things.”
“What other things? When are they coming home?”
“Eat and I’ll tell you. Are you eating?”
Christie filled her mouth again.
“Martha has put her place up for sale. There’s already been a few interested people and she’s finding it a bit... confronting. Thomas is whisking Martha off to Paris. Apparently, they had some plan to go there once. He is so excited, sounds like a young man.”
I will meet you anytime, anywhere you want me to. We can move to Paris if you wish. Get far away from River’s End and start a new life for ourselves. Just do not give up on us.
That was what Thomas once wrote to Martha, in a letter that she never saw. There’d been other mentions of Paris, but that one came back to Christie with alarming clarity.
“You don’t think they are staying there?”
“What do you mean?”
“Permanently. Like, moving to Paris.”
“No. Relax, sweetheart, it is just a long overdue visit.”
“You know he once told her they could move there. Leave here forever. What if that’s what they’re doing?” Near tears, Christie pushed her plate away.
Martin took a moment to reply. “It isn’t. They’re not going to leave you. Nor am I.”
“Then why don’t you...” She stopped herself. Not now!
“Why don’t I what? Christie, what am I not doing?”
“Let’s talk about something else. Okay?” Please, let it go.
A long silence drew out between them. Appetite gone, Christie played with her wine glass.
Eventually, with a sigh, Martin spoke. “How was the walk home? Did you go via the beach?”
“Yes. It got dark quickly and I put the torch on when I thought...”
“Thought what?”
Christie stared at the ceiling. “There was a possum or something up along the railway track.” She forced a laugh. “It made me jump, that’s all.”
“Maybe I should come over.”
“No. I mean, it isn’t necessary. I’m safely here and the door is locked. And look, I’m even eating. I just want to clean up the mess the tradies left today and have an early night. But, thanks.”
“I could tuck you into bed.”
“Stop tempting me. I love you.”
“I love you as well. A lot.”
After he hung up, Christie held the phone for a while. More than anything she wanted him here but how could she be honest without the emotion? Swirling around in her head were too many what ifs and doubts. Not just about their future, but Thomas and Martha’s.
***
Martin whistled for Randall as he strode across the soft grass to the gate. Running to catch up with him, the dog – tail wagging furiously – was ready for the night-time adventure. Hand on the gate, Martin stopped.
Would turning up uninvited on Christie’s doorstep make things worse? He’d seen her hide some sudden emotion before she’d left. Just now, her tone of voice and odd comments reinforced his gut feeling that something was upsetting her.
Earlier, on the deck, their connection had been strong. Her hands on his chest, her eyes gazing at him with such incredible love. With the late rays of the sun on her face, no woman in the world was more beautiful. So fragile and precious, she created a desire in him almost impossible to keep in check.
If it was up to him, they would be married tomorrow. They would have a family, the dream he’d kept buried his whole life. Only now, with the light she brought, could he begin to imagine this was real.
Martin wandered back to the house, trailed by a confused Randall. He had to step back a little and give her some space. If he rushed her into a commitment, then he was no better than Derek.
At the deck, Martin dropped onto the top step. Randall whined and offered him a paw. “Sorry, mate. False alarm.” He scratched the dog’s head, staring into the night.
Once he had been in a happy family. His mother singing him to sleep. Dad carrying him on his shoulders. Vague memories that disappeared a little more every year.
After a lifetime of loneliness, Christie burst into his world. He needed to protect and love her, breath in her incredible scent, and walk in the light she radiated. Every time she was out of his sight, he ached to hear her laugh. See her smile.
The only way to do this was slowly. One step at a time, letting her lead, so she would know he was serious and not be afraid of embracing this precious love they shared.