Maggie woke to a perfect autumn morning, her eyes sliding open, her body stretching from fingers to toes. She wiggled the painted toenails peeping out beyond her pyjama pants and yawned aloud, letting the sound grow to a little squeal at the end. Sleep had seemed unlikely when she’d fallen into bed late, a little tiddly and bursting with excitement. Now she smiled at the thought of the day ahead. Storm season was over for the year and already March looked full of promise.
The door to her room creaked open and Noah’s face appeared, ‘You awake, Mum?’
‘Sure, bud, come on in.’ She sat up and leaned against the headboard, wedged a pillow behind her shoulders and fussed with her skew-whiff singlet top to cover her belly.
Noah swaggered across the room, flopped next to Maggie, angling his head to share the same pillow. He had his arms crossed over a burgeoning chest and there was a day-old downy shadow to his chin and top lip. What a metamorphosis—that fragile, premmie baby boy to this courageous and capable young man now staring up at the pressed tin ceiling.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
‘For?’
‘Everything. Trusting me. Saying yes to Fi and Europe after school. I’m not sure who was more excited. Her or me.’
Luckily, Phillip had rung Maggie to prepare her for the ambush and to explain that he planned on subsidising the gap year adventure when Noah finished. Fiona and Noah would base themselves with Phillip’s good friend in London, who apparently lived not far from the famous Abbey Road studio that, according to her son, was every musician’s Mecca.
‘Hmm, I’ll tattoo the conditions on your arm.’
He smiled. ‘Yeah, yeah, I know. Homework, dogs, bar shift, Facebook.’ Then in unison with Maggie he said, ‘And in that order.’
The pair lay side by side listening to the early morning sounds of the town they now called home.
‘Mum?’
‘Yes, bud.’
‘I want to feel good about Dad. I can’t be angry. I miss him and I feel sad, but I feel kinda lucky. Is that okay?’
‘Of course. Lucky how, though?’
‘Because of him I have a pain-in-the-butt sister who I’m thinking I can probably squeeze a few years’ worth of favours out of after she outed me like that.’ Noah’s laugh ended with a grunt as Maggie poked his ribs. ‘Ow! Only joking.’
‘I nose you are,’ Maggie said with a pinch to his nose. ‘Shhh! What was that noise?’
A loud bang outside catapulted her off the bed. She thrust the French doors open and stepped onto the veranda, peering over the railing to see Fiona’s canary yellow Saab with the roof up, the compartment crammed with balloons.
‘So, you’ve got big muscles, Cory,’ the girl was yelling. ‘I can see that without you having to prove it all the time. Be gentle, will you?’
The pair’s flirtations were obvious, even from where Maggie and Noah now stood on the veranda. ‘Cory and Fiona?’ She smiled at Noah as he sidled next to her.
‘Of course! From day one.’
Really?’
‘You didn’t notice him hanging around like a bad fart doing all those extra shifts, the cocktail event, working on Pop’s car …?’ Noah laughed. ‘He’s got the worst case of Fiona fever, ev-ar. That’s why he insisted on helping us today, even though I said balloons and him weren’t such a good combo, especially if he’s wanting to impress Fi.’
‘I thought Cory was … I thought he was your … friend.’
‘Nah! He’s a good mate, though,’ replied Noah with a candour that belied Maggie’s fears that awkwardness might distance her from her son, ‘and a bloody good drummer with the band.’
‘I see, and what exactly are you doing with the balloons?’
‘Ethne wants a Priscilla moment. Fi wants to give her one.’
‘Her what?’
‘Just wait ’til you see it. Gotta go.’
With Noah gone, Fiona below yelling at Cory, and a perfect autumn sky without a rain cloud in sight, Maggie felt a sudden urge to shout from the rooftops.
Last night’s red sunset had promised a sailor’s delight by morning and the folklore looked like proving true. Storm season was finally over and so too was the wettest summer on record. News reports had aired every night on the TV above the bar with breaking news bulletins documenting unprecedented flooding in south-east Queensland.
‘A bloody miracle’ was how locals explained Calingarry Crossing escaping the inundation that had struck so many river towns. The storm waters that had taken Charlie by surprise that night had been the start of major flooding in several catchments across north-western New South Wales. Only by being a strong old bugger had Charlie been able to hang on to a tree limb long enough for help to arrive.
While Calingarry’s loss, both stock and crop, had been minor, devastating losses elsewhere had made the New Year a reflective one, a time to think and appreciate all that was good. And what better way to celebrate a new beginning than with a big announcement?
A March wedding was exactly what the town needed.
Something old.
Something new.
Something borrowed.
Something blue.
Something wonderful. And Maggie needed some wonderful.
Three funerals in six months had taken their toll on Maggie. She’d lost Amber, suddenly and tragically, followed by the Rev’s painless and peaceful goodbye, and finally Brian.
Poor Brian. A final call for witnesses to come forward had delivered one tourist who remembered seeing him driving erratically, speeding on the treacherous hairpin bends up around Nine Mile Mountain that day. The actual crash site—a sweeping bend close to where the road plateaued, a break in the guardrail allowing tourists to stop and observe the breathtaking vista across the top of the ranges—had showed no sign of skid marks or second vehicle involvement. An investigation ruled out both mechanical problems and environmental causes as contributing factors, and the coroner found a low quantity of ecstasy and alcohol in Brian’s system did not contribute directly to his death. She also dismissed the text message Brian had sent to Maggie as not significant, and with no suicide note made an open finding.
But Brian did leave a note.
He left it in a song, in the old guitar case, in a faded folder.
Maggie had reread the lyrics so many times they were now stuck in her head. As if the song wasn’t enough, that old guitar case crammed with keepsakes lifted a lid on his lifetime of secrets. Just like the Rev had hung on to his un-posted letter to Dan, Brian had replied to Amber’s letter. He kept his own un-posted letter, along with the song, in a small package—a folder of old photographs and press clippings, mostly social page pictures featuring Amber and Phillip Blair with their small daughter. A kind of dossier on the daughter he’d longed to know.
Maggie had cried when she read his words. She’d cried for herself, for him, and for Fiona. He’d held a torch for Amber for years, only she’d found a new life, one a poor pub musician couldn’t compete with. How long into their marriage had he kept that torch aflame? Maggie told herself it didn’t matter any more. She could hardly condemn Brian for clinging to his memories. Hadn’t she secretly held a torch for Dan Ireland throughout their marriage?
What was clear from Brian’s letter to Amber was the reason he’d never contacted her or Fiona. Brian had said the same thing to Maggie in his text. He wasn’t good enough. Yet, she wished she could tell him now, he’d been such a good father to Noah in those early years.
At least Brian had taught Maggie a lesson. It makes no sense yearning all your life for something when with a little courage it could be yours.
No more wishing, no more fantasising. It was time to make those fairy tales come true.
Maggie checked her watch.
It’s time.
She kicked off her fluffy pink scuffs and slipped into her new shoes—white satin sandals with a woven wicker wedge heel that were only slightly more practical than stilettos. She inspected the finished product, from head to toe, in the mirror. How long had it been since she’d worn an outfit so fancy, so feminine with its frilly, flowing layers in hues of emerald green and turquoise? Noah said she looked like a peacock, while Fiona hadn’t looked twice at the out-of-this-world price tag before handing over her credit card to the surprised Saddleton boutique owner. The girl had even spoilt Ethne with a string of pearls for the wedding and a handwritten note that Ethne had laughed over before tucking it down her sizeable breast and hugging her.
Everyone had changed and grown this past season. No one more than Fiona. No longer the party princess, she’d had to grow up whether she wanted to or not. The evolution of Fiona’s expressions the day Maggie and Phillip had sat her down and shown her Brian’s keepsakes and the song was still clear in Maggie’s mind. At first joy, then confusion, and finally anguish for yet another person lost before she’d had the chance to know them.
A wolf whistle jolted Maggie back to the here and now. She whipped around to see Dan leaning a shoulder against the doorframe of her bedroom, feet crossed at the ankles, one hand shoved in the side pocket of his navy trousers. The pale blue shirt was unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off tanned farmer’s arms. He looked incredibly sexy in his Akubra.
‘I don’t believe you should be here, Mr Ireland.’
‘I came to make sure you’re ready for that walk down the aisle, Ms Lindeman.’ As hunky as he was right now, when he’d walked into the pub the other day in Wranglers, RM Williams boots and a leather hat, it had taken her breath away. She was seeing the Dan from twenty years ago and loving it.
‘Do I look ready?’ Maggie asked.
‘You look just like the young Lindeman girl I once knew.’
‘And you, Dan Ireland, look like a gorgeous version of a boy I once knew.’ Maggie laughed a kind of giddy, girlie giggle.
‘What are you saying? Wasn’t I gorgeous back then?’
Maggie smiled. ‘There were plenty of words being used to describe you, as I recall. Gorgeous was not one of them. What have you done with Charlie?’
‘He’s downstairs grumbling about wearing a flower in his button hole. Says he looks like a—’
Dan hesitated.
‘A poof,’ Maggie finished, trying to smile, but failing miserably and turning her face away instead. ‘Yes, I can hear him now.’
Would thoughtless turns of phrase like that ever not hurt a mother’s heart? How many times had she laughed along when Charlie Ireland had told one of his poofter jokes in the bar? Nowadays Maggie wanted to cry—after tearing shreds off the person. But she’d never do anything of the sort. She was learning to do what her son would have to do for the rest of his life: tolerate the bigots and those who didn’t mean any harm and didn’t know any better.
‘Hey, buck up. This’ll put a smile on that dial.’ Dan pushed off the doorframe and sidled up next to Maggie, inspecting the two of them in the mirror. ‘Isn’t there a saying about blue and green should never be seen?’
‘I always thought we went well together. A long time ago I even thought our names—Lindeman and Ireland—were a good omen, like Lindeman Island, the resort.’
‘Is that right?’
‘I had it all worked out. The resort would even pay us to have our honeymoon there.’
Dan turned Maggie to face him, looked her hard in the eyes and said, ‘I’m learning to love that laugh of yours.’
‘For a while there I wasn’t sure I’d ever laugh again.’
‘It’s been one hell of a season.’
‘At least everything’s out now.’
‘Goes to prove there’s no keeping a lid on some secrets,’ he agreed. ‘Let things simmer for long enough and they’re bound to boil over, especially when you bring all those people into the one small town and turn up the heat.’
‘We survived though.’
‘Yep. We sure did. I’m glad things look like working out for Phillip, too. Glad Fiona was smart enough to see what’s good for her. Phillip Blair must be the nicest bloke on the planet.’
‘Besides you, of course,’ Maggie winked as she grabbed hold of Dan’s arm for support, lifting one foot at a time to adjust the new slingbacks.
‘Everyone’s waiting downstairs. I managed a glimpse of Fiona and Noah’s handiwork before they hustled me away. The ‘Just Married’ job they’ve done is the best I’ve seen, not that I’ve seen that many. Do you think they’ve got enough balloons?’
‘Ah, the balloons! Yes. Fiona, the event manager, has been whipping Noah and his mate into line. She’s got more surprises in store.’
‘Noah’s taken to having a half-sister like a horse to hay, I’d say,’ Dan said.
Maggie nodded. ‘Speaking of horses and hay … How’s my girl?’
‘Dad’s a bit bemused. He can’t figure out why you’d pay Clive Peters anything for that old nag, but she’s settled nicely into our old stables and I think he’s secretly enjoying the company. Dare I ask about Fiona’s surprises?’
‘Did you know they’ve written a song together for the wedding? They also announced the other day that they’re determined to bring the pub into the twenty-first century.’ She saw the confusion in Dan’s face. ‘My latest news. I’ve accepted Fiona’s offer—with conditions.’
‘You mean her chipping in some of the inheritance from her mother into the pub?’
‘Yes and no. I don’t want her money, but she seems to want some involvement so she’s going to lease the bistro from me. Apparently the all-new, soon-to-be-refurbished and renamed Edge Restaurant will be blogging, tweeting and Facebooking.’
‘Edge Restaurant. I like it.’
‘There’s a business plan and all. She’s qualified and quite good at them, so she tells me.’ Maggie winked.
‘That’s quite a turnaround.’
‘She’s talked to Phillip and he was able to fill in some gaps about Amber’s stay at the Dandelion House. I don’t know what it is about that place that changes people for the better, but I like it. I don’t expect her to put roots down any time soon, but she’s committed to getting the bistro set up properly and that’s a start. She’ll be here all year while Noah finishes school. Works for me. I have lots more photo ideas I want to pursue. First things first, though.’ With a deep breath, Maggie flattened her palms against her belly, sucked in her stomach. ‘I’m ready now. You should get to the church first.’
‘Yep. Just had to check on you.’
‘I’m fine. Happier still at seeing Ethne over the moon.’
‘I’m happy to be on the right side of her, that’s for sure.’
‘Until you’re late to the church. Get going.’
‘You’re right. She’ll have my hide.’
‘I just wish I didn’t feel so queasy in the stomach.’
‘I’ll be right there, at the front of the church, so you can focus on me.’
‘And what if I trip down the aisle in these snazzy new shoes? I’ve never given a bride away before.’ Maggie picked up her camera, slinging the strap over one shoulder. ‘Mind you, I told Ethne I’d be happy to give her away as a bride, but not her job. I’ll just have to cope while the newly-weds are off sailing the high seas.’
‘I heard Barney had found a buyer for his boat. Good on him.’
‘And they’re delivering it to Coffs Harbour on the back of that giant semi. Imagine the two of them. Ethne reckoned she was going to strap herself to the top of the boat and do her own Priscilla Queen of the Desert thing—wedding dress and all—until Noah advised against it.’
‘Good on Noah.’
Maggie picked up the superbly wrapped wedding present—Fiona was also very good at gift wrapping—before grabbing her handbag off the bed.
‘Your gift to the bride and groom?’
‘Not my first choice. I was going to hold their reception as a gift until Ethne told me they were going away straight after the church service. I had to think again. Did you know you can email a photograph through The Camera House website and have them post it back in the mail as a giant canvas? Will and Sara made the frame. And guess what else? I’ve been keeping this a secret, but I have to tell you.’
Dan tipped his head to one side. ‘What?’
‘You know the pictures Fiona has been putting on the website she made for me? Well, I actually had a book publisher email me about using one of them as cover art for a novel. I could actually make my first sale.’
‘I’m impressed,’ Dan said. ‘I’ve got a secret of my own.’
‘Are you going to tell me?’
‘I will, but we need to get going. Will you do something for me?’
Maggie nodded.
‘After waving the newlyweds off, I want you to wait at the church for me.’ There was a blast of a horn. ‘Uh-oh, I’d better go. See you there.’
‘I kind of thought the next wedding might be yours,’ said Sara, pressing a tissue into Maggie’s palm, encouraging her fingers to curl around the scrunched-up white ball.
Maggie didn’t know what to say as she wiped tears of joy from her eyes and waved goodbye to the back end of Barney’s semi-trailer with its ‘Just Married’ sign trailing about a million purple balloons, with Ethne’s wibbly-wobbly arms waving frantically out the passenger window—all swallowed up by a billowing dust cloud.
‘The thing about fairy tales, Sara, is not everyone gets the happy ever after. I have to be realistic. Dan’s life and his kids are in the city. Besides, there’s not much call for crash investigators in the country. With old Charlie refusing to budge, and swearing he’ll have to be carted out of his house feet first, Dan will probably visit more often. So it’s a pretty happy ending. Dan gets his dad back, you get a new baby soon, Ethne gets her prince, and I get to be a wicked step-mother.’
Sara laughed so loud that the last of the wedding guests looked back and Will wheeled across to join them. ‘Fiona’s lucky to have you.’
‘Come on you two,’ Will urged. ‘Time to get to the pub and break in the new bar-man! Maggie, love, what were you thinking hiring a bloke?’
Sara thumped Will in the shoulder. ‘I think it’s cool having a bit of eye-candy for the girls for a change. Well done, Maggie.’
‘His name’s Aiden and it’s only temporary. He’s keen to work, and happy to do long shifts to make it worth his travel time. He’ll be driving out from Coolabah Tree Gully.’
‘That is keen.’
‘His uncle owns the pub there, so he knows his way around one. He’s also a qualified chef. I mean really qualified, and in some fancy Sydney restaurants too, so Fiona approved, of course.’ Maggie laughed. ‘The timing couldn’t be better.’
‘What are we waiting for then?’
‘You two go. I’m waiting for Dan. He was here a while ago. He asked me to wait. I’m sure I won’t be long.’ Maggie glanced around the church grounds, even stepping back to peer inside the church doors.
‘Okay, gorgeous, let’s not dilly-dally,’ Will said to Sara. ‘You’re pushing. I’m preserving the strength in my arms for drinking games and you need pram pushing practice. Come on, Little Mama. Mush! Mush!’
Maggie looked at her watch, then checked inside the church one last time. No Dan, just sad memories of Sundays from her childhood now the church was empty. The old organ was gone, replaced with a tinny-sounding amplifier and pre-recorded music, which was why today Maggie had escorted Ethne down the aisle to Noah’s composition.
She stepped outside and into the sunshine and relished the warmth on her shoulders of a perfect autumn day with its cloudless blue sky. She closed her eyes for a moment.
‘Ouch!’ She flattened a palm on her head and rubbed. ‘Ouch!’ Another plop, followed by a scattering of berries on the ground around her feet.
There was one very big fig bird in that Moreton Bay fig tree and Maggie had a good idea it answered to the name …
‘Dan Ireland!’ She slammed her hands on both hips. ‘If that’s you …’ She could see him perched on the massive limb that reached out thick and strong towards her. ‘You don’t think that hurts any more?’
‘Just getting your attention. All I ever wanted to do.’
‘Well, you have it. Now what?’
‘Come closer.’
Stumbling as a heel dug into the soft ground, she lifted her feet one at a time and with the flick of a finger the slingbacks were off and dangling from her hand. She moved closer, stepping over the far-reaching buttress roots clawing their way to new ground, until she was close enough to see his laugh lines—white in his newly bronzed face. Dan had laughed a lot of late, and in the sun: all those hours spent at their secret place by the river with the never-give-up tree.
‘Come down before you hurt yourself. What are you doing?’
‘I wanted to tell you something.’
‘You’re a fig bird in real life?’
‘I’m resigning.’
She felt a rush of happiness to her heart. ‘From the police service? But why?’
‘Because I’ll be staying in Calingarry Crossing, that’s why.’
She held in the tiny gasp and its accompanying smile with four fingers pressed against her mouth.
‘No cross-examination, Madam Prosecutor?’
‘What about your life in Sydney?’
‘My kids are looking forward to coming out in the holidays, especially after I told them there was internet. I also bought an X-Box. In the meantime I plan to make amends with the old man. He’s going to need help, not that he’s admitting it. The property could do with some TLC and I wouldn’t mind being a country boy again, ’specially now I have a horse.’
‘Wow, that’s great … about your dad. I’m so pleased things are working out for you both.’
‘Don’t go popping the cork on the champers just yet. Besides, I have one more thing to figure out with a woman who has never been far from my thoughts.’
Dan jumped to the ground, grunted as he almost tripped over a tree root, before regrouping with a laugh. Looking incredibly sexy, he took the couple of paces required to close the gap between them.
‘Dan,’ Maggie said in a cautionary voice as two strong hands grasped her shoulders. ‘Be warned. My heart won’t weather any more disappointment.’
‘I’m not aiming to disappoint, Maggie. I’m aiming to hang around and help you out while Ethne’s away. I know you’re capable of doing it all without any help, but you shouldn’t have to. Let me share the load. I can be quite useful, not to mention resourceful.’ He winked.
‘Resourceful, Dan Ireland?’
‘Yes, Maggie Lindeman. I’ve finally figured out a place I can take you for dinner. Once Ethne’s back, we’ll go there.’
‘Where is there, exactly?’
‘It’s a lovely little place you might’ve heard about, set in a resort: intimate dinners for two, breakfast in bed every morning, sunset walks on the beach. It’s a little spot in the Whitsundays called Lindeman Island. I hear it’s particularly wonderful in winter. What do you think?’
Maggie paused to take a breath, to savour the moment, to survey the unblemished blue sky.
‘I think,’ she said, looking into Dan’s eyes, ‘I’m ready for a wonderful winter.’
Maggie Lindeman’s past, present and her future had converged and was standing right in front of her—and there wasn’t a storm cloud in sight.