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Morgan stared out of the café window. The buzz of patrons’ chatter, cutlery clinking, and the usually delightful sound of china coffee cups being set on china saucers; today it was just white noise.
Why did Hunter have to come back?
For Skye, of course. And Morgan was glad he had. If glad was a word you could describe about encountering someone who had strolled through your mind and made himself at home. She knew she wasn’t being fair. If he hadn’t... She shivered. If he hadn’t, she would still be out there, under Jarrod’s sway, a puppet.
Her cheeks flushed as she acknowledged to herself that besides horrendous mortification, seeing Hunter again had sent a thrill of excitement through her. He was Nemaro. Part of a world she’d turned her back on. Almost like a sign that read ‘you could still have this’. They were still out there. Hunter was a direct connection to...Jarrod.
But she hated Jarrod. He was the ocean devil. An ocean devil who looked like an angel. Who seemed to see into her soul and understand it. Her eyes stung for a wearying moment. Yes. He had seen into her soul and understood it. And used that understanding, or whatever fancy word fitted whatever the hell it was those creatures did, and made her his groupie. That’s what it amounted to. And not even because he wanted her. He’d wanted Hunter back. That was it. She was a means to an end.
So why didn’t she hate him with every fibre of her being? She did hate him, didn’t she? Maybe not with every fibre. Some of those fibres... kind of...well...still liked him. Arrggh. And now she hated herself.
Why did Skye have to be so totally unavailable to talk to about all of this right now? She needed her best friend. Maybe she should just break doctor’s orders. But the image of Skye’s eyes rolling up in her head as she passed out from pain returned full bore. No way. She would not do that to Skye, not again. She felt terrible for pushing so hard before she realised. They all did. They’d thought they were helping, plying her with questions and trying to fill in gaps. Her mind had blocked out every memory they’d tried to share with her, pain blotting out every part connected with the Nemaro like a chalkboard eraser made of knives.
Morgan fidgeted with her pen and order pad, trying to focus on work. She looked around at the third-full cafe. Annie was barista today, and her flatmate Scott was helping with service, clearly just to be around Annie because he wasn’t being paid with anything other than unlimited coffee and food. He’d eaten almost as much as a full wage already. Mum was on top of orders. Lunch was over, and the cabinet well-stocked with slices. Her roaming gaze stopped on the mural.
She had never understood the mural until she met Jarrod. Now it was like a giant flag waving to everybody: ‘Hey, there are people out there under those waves across the road’. Stunningly, heartbreakingly beautiful people, just like Skye’s mother’s story. What was that line? She’d been half asleep when she heard it ten years ago, but it stayed with her. People so beautiful it would break your heart. She got it now. She pressed her free hand over the heart that had become a cliché - it literally hurt.
Morgan spun away from the mural and strode towards the counter, her ghost of a sob catching in her chest like a bark of bitter laughter. She was like the poor cousin version of whatever Nemaro agony was happening to Skye. She wished they’d never known about them. No, she didn’t. Yes, she did. The deep breath she sucked in caught in her throat again, sending her into a full-on choking fit this time.
“Morgan! Are you all right?” Her mother paused over the slice she was cutting, searching Morgan’s no doubt crimson face.
“Sure,” she wheezed, then coughed some more. Mum passed her a glass of water and she sipped it gratefully. “Yes,” she croaked more assertively. “But some fresh air would be good...”
Her mother eyed her shrewdly. “Bit of a shock seeing Hunter, wasn’t it? It was for me, at least.”
“I guess. Sure. Yes.”
“It’s quietened off. Let’s grab a coffee break, shall we? Would courtyard fresh air do?” Without waiting for an answer, Rowena walked over to their barista. “Annie, would you be able to manage things for twenty minutes? Just taking a break, if it suits?”
Annie nodded, “Go for it,” she murmured absently, concentrating on her signature swirl decorating the latte she’d just made. She smirked in self-congratulation, raising her eyebrows at Morgan, and steered the patterned latte past her face at eye level like a challenge, reminding her of their ongoing competition to brew the perfect Bliss coffee. Morgan couldn’t help grinning.
“Nice try small fry,” she muttered and Annie’s smirk widened as she put the latte onto the tray Scott had waiting.
“Bring yours to you in the courtyard?” Annie asked.
“Thanks, you’re a doll,” Rowena smiled.
They found seats with plenty of empty tables around them.
“How are you doing, Maggie May? Really?” Rowena searched her daughter’s face.
“Great,” Morgan dropped her eyes.
“You still haven’t properly told me anything about what happened at the...the party you went to. The one that Hunter’s old friends held.”
“Not much to tell, Mum.” Morgan concentrated on straightening the utensils. Her mum seemed to be sticking to the official story, but Morgan dreaded seeing something else in her mother’s eyes. Like suspicion. Or worse, knowledge. Impossible conversations. Now she knew how Skye must have felt. She prayed her mother wouldn’t ask her anything about the ‘partygoers’ that she couldn’t answer. Some things were definitely best left out there under the water. Jarrod swam into her thoughts again, his blond hair dark in the water, his eyes bluer than any she’d ever seen, even when she knew they were really black with dark magic. She shuddered.
“Are you cold? We can go in...”
She heard the worry in her mum’s voice and looked up. Rowena’s pensive expression flayed Morgan’s already raw emotions. “I’m fine, Mum. Truly.”
Her mother’s worried face softened a little, and they fell silent. Morgan closed her eyes, centring herself in the moment. A break with her amazing mother. She focused on the sun on her skin, and the soft breeze that found its way over the high wall and into the courtyard. Birds chirped nearby. The murmur of their customers brought a stirring of old familiar joy to her, and the best fragrance in the world - coffee - wove through scents of hot cobblestones and late summer flowers, reminding her how great all of this was.
She opened her eyes and smiled at her mum. Rowena’s face lit up, and she reached over and squeezed Morgan’s hand, before they both had to lean back to make room for Scott’s tray.
“Flat white, long black,” he said with professional flair, and the Lauders both smiled. He placed the right coffee in front of the right Lauder.
“Nice job, Scott,” Rowena tilted her head to the side in appreciative appraisal. “Should we have you on the permanent team?”
“Nah – Uni starts in a week. I’m just...you know...” he looked embarrassed and hurried away.
Rowena chuckled. “Yes, I think we do! That’s two boys working for love. Sure you don’t have a third tucked away somewhere, Maggie? Can’t expect a tall, handsome stranger to come walking through those doors with an offer of free labour?” Rowena’s teasing expression vanished at the colour that flooded Morgan’s face. But the expression she read there stopped the questions on her lips. She took a quick sip of coffee. “Ouch!” she yelped.
“What?” Morgan looked up, startled.
“Scorched my lips. Should have let it cool a bit.”
Morgan pulled a sympathetic face and took a sip of her flat white. “You should have had one of these,” she said. “I hate to say it, but Annie makes a good coffee.”
“Not as good as yours,” Rowena said loyally.
“Thanks Mum,” Morgan laughed, and Rowena looked pleased. But her eyebrows rose at the deep sips Morgan continued to take, finishing her coffee almost at once.
“In a hurry?”
“Um...I just wouldn’t mind a bit of fresh air - like, walk along Marine Parade, you know?” She sensed Rowena tense, and couldn’t finish what she was going to say. The silence was brittle, and she risked a look at her mother’s eyes. They were sombre, but kind.
“You’ve worked hard today. You can knock off early if you like,” Rowena agreed. “Closing isn’t far off anyway, and we have Scott to help.”
Morgan pushed her chair back, and they both stood and stared at each other. Rowena held out her arms, and Morgan let herself be enfolded. Her eyes closed again, savouring the safety and certainty this embrace always held. “I love you, Mum,” she whispered.
“Love you too, Maggie May.”
“I’ll go out through the studio. It’s closer,” she said as they drew apart.
“Okay, love.”
Her hand on the studio door latch, her mother’s quiet voice followed her. “You’ll be back soon, won’t you?”
Morgan pretended she hadn’t heard. Her heart thumped as she crossed the empty room. She let herself into the lane and closed the doors behind her.
