| |
The calm sea mirrored a perfect blue sky. The only reminder of the storm was debris along the high tide mark, lumps of seaweed and driftwood. All the signs of the previous evening’s emergency were gone, except footprints and scrapings in the high sand. Christie sat on the beach, still exhausted but free of the fog of despair. Randall was fine. So was Martin. It was Jasmine Sea that now broke her heart.
A few hundred metres out, a salvage operation was underway. The yacht was almost on its side, surprisingly not under the water. A towing vessel and its crew worked on bringing her upright, padding flotation devices along the starboard side. There was a dry dock in Geelong where Jasmine Sea would undergo repairs.
“She’ll be fine.” Martin dropped onto the sand beside Christie. “Drink.” He handed her a bottle of water.
“Thanks. I told you I’d sink her.”
“Well, you were wrong. There’s always pockets of air, which was enough to keep her more or less floating. We need to get something straight, right now.” Martin gently took Christie’s chin and turned her face to look at him. “Derek Hobbs did this. Not you.”
“Yes, but if I’d called you first, or got off her in Willow Bay, or...”
“Or what? There is one and only one thing you should have done differently.” His tone matched his serious and stern expression.
Christie dropped her eyes. “Charged my phone.”
He released her chin and took both of her hands.
“You don’t need to tell me off. I understand the position I left myself in.” She brought her eyes back to his, speaking quietly, but with conviction. “One phone call would have changed everything and I will never make that mistake again. Same as locking doors.”
“Yes, well you’re not the only one at fault there. I should have locked Randall in. You might not have had a moment of rest, but he wouldn’t have pushed the door open after you.” He kissed Christie, just a brush of his lips against hers. “Big lesson for us both.”
With a groan that resonated across the bay, Jasmine Sea slowly righted herself, the masts pointing to the sky. Martin’s hands tightened around Christie’s. “Good,” he said. “She’ll be on her way soon. And you need to pack for Auckland.”
“Will you help me?”
“Seeing as Angus loaned me his Range Rover, I might as well ferry you around. Until we retrieve that fancy car of yours.” He grimaced as he got to his feet more slowly than usual. “I might stay out of the sea for a bit.”
Christie took his offered hand. The sea isn’t so bad. Not anymore.
***
“I just can’t believe it.” Martin touched one of the paintings in the cottage entry. With no front door yet, the space was dark. “Even then Thomas was a genius.”
“Did he ever talk to you about this?” Christie flicked a torch around.
“Never. And I don’t know what he will think.” Martin stepped back into the hallway. “Or how he’ll react.”
“If it was you, would you want to have them back? To know?”
“Yes. Yes, it would change everything.”
They went into her bedroom. “Speaking of having paintings back, what about this one?”
Sole Survivor, still in its box, leaned against the wall. Martin revealed the painting, then sat on the bed to look at it. Grateful for any chance to get off her feet, Christie climbed onto his lap. “It’s a beautiful piece. And Trev said it is mine now. So, do you want it?”
“I don’t need it. There’s no relevance for me.”
“How so?”
He wrapped his arms around Christie and leaned his chin on her shoulder. “You were spot on when you said it was about me. But I’m not the person who painted it now.” He sighed as if releasing past demons. “I look at that man and see pain. Loneliness. Even hopelessness. That’s my past.”
She turned in his arms with a smile. “And your present?”
“You know the answer. All I focused on last night was you being my wife.”
“Christie Blake.”
“As soon as you are ready. Once you’re home, shall we set a date?”
Her reply was to throw her arms around Martin and squeeze him as hard as she could. “Easy, sweetheart.” He laughed. “Bits of me still hurt.”
“Any bits that don’t?”
“Behave.” He turned her back around toward the painting. “If you’re okay with it, we might donate it to the Coast Guard. They can sell it and get some much-needed funds.”
“That’s a wonderful gesture. They made sure Jasmine Sea was okay. But our little town. How do I thank them?”
“By being yourself. They love you.”
“And I love them. I belong.”
“About time you worked it out.”
***
Christie locked the cottage and checked it twice, making Martin laugh. “Would you like me to give the key back to Barry?” Barry had dropped his set around to Palmerston House once word got out that Christie’s were missing. “He’s given the boys the day off and taken one himself. He mentioned something about returning some baskets to Sylvia.”
“Thanks. What will I do about the Lotus though?”
“Drive it?” Trev came around the corner of the cottage. “Nice to see you looking so... dry.” He shook Martin’s hand and kissed Christie’s cheek. “Feeling a bit better today?”
“Everything hurts, but yes. But how do I drive the Lotus without keys?”
“Cleared them from evidence. Here.” Trev took her car and cottage keys from a pocket. “Just one of many problems looming ahead for one Derek Hobbs.”
“Thank you so much” Christie took the keys. “Trev, was there anything... else on him?” Her voice faltered and she unconsciously touched her ring finger.
“It wouldn’t feel right for me to do this, so here, Martin.” Trev took Christie’s ring out of a different pocket and handed it to Martin.
Christie let out a small sob and tears flooded her eyes. Martin looked skyward. “Christie, no more crying! Now, this is your last chance to change your mind. Still want to marry me?”
She nodded, blinking rapidly to clear the tears, but one fell onto Martin’s hand as he took hers. He slipped the ring on and kissed her hand. Then he found a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes.
“Thanks, mate.” He nodded to Trev, who sported a big grin.
“All good. I’ll need you both for statements today. Sorry, but the sooner we do it, the faster I can escalate charges. Say, an hour from now?” He waved and headed back to his car.
“I don’t want to leave.” Christie whispered, staring at her ring.
“The cottage?”
“River’s End.”
“We’ll be here,” Martin said. “Randall and I, we will be here. And you’ll come home and we’ll get married. So, there it is.”
You’re right. Christie smiled. “Yes, there it is.”
***
Excitement bubbled up in Christie as the Lotus hugged the final curve before home. To her left the ocean stretched out forever, sparkling and inviting under the early autumn sky. Two weeks made a noticeable difference at this time of year, particularly the deciduous trees with their blaze of yellow, red, and orange.
A quick phone call to Martin when she cleared the airport had her curious. “Go to the cottage first. There’s a surprise for you.” It was too far past lunch for a picnic and they were expected at Palmerston House tonight for the delayed engagement party.
She turned into her street, singing along to the radio as she navigated the familiar potholes and railway track. Instead of going up the driveway, she parked on the grass verge. Her bags could come in later. There was no sign of Martin, but then again, last time she’d returned from a job, he and Randall were already inside the cottage.
In delight, she halted at the gate. Gone was her dreadful attempt at drawing a door and in its place was the real one. Two new steps led to a security screen door. The smell of freshly mown grass took her attention. Not only mown, but there was a new path to the front door. Whatever had Martin been up to? She went around the back.
At the porch she stopped, hand over her mouth. There was a love seat and a hanging basket of jasmine. The tendrils touched her as she unlocked the door and she inhaled their scent with a smile. “Martin? Randall?” She called, stepping in.
The kitchen was finished. New sink, appliances, and re-varnished floorboards. The old kitchen table still dominated the room, but it was now lacquered a rich mahogany.
Room by room, Christie inspected the cottage, gasping at the changes. The curtains were hung, flooring all done, laundry and bathroom beautiful with brand new fittings and appliances. Like a new house! Like a home. Vases of flowers adorned the bedrooms and lounge room, and Martin’s painting of her hung above the fireplace. There was still plenty to do, but someone had put a lot of love and effort into this.
The end of the hallway was transformed. Christie walked right into a gorgeous little entry. Thomas’ paintings adorned two walls, and there was a narrow table, clearly crafted by Martin. Beneath it, more of Thomas’ paintings were lined up.
She opened the front door and the screen door, and stood on the top step smiling at the garden. What a difference from the overgrown, sad old building she’d inherited.
The sound of a car broke the silence. She recognised the old four wheel drive and wondered why Martin would come in that instead of his motorcycle.
It turned into the driveway and stopped. Christie squealed as Thomas climbed out of the back seat and opened the front door for Martha.