Page 113 of Lime Tree Hill

Mitch:You don’t like to be summoned.

Tayla:I’ll make an exception just this once.

Mitch: Good. Bring an open mind and jeans. And your leather jacket.

Tayla:Oh? Sounds interesting. Shall I wear a top? Underwear?

Mitch:*laughs*

When she arrivedat Petrie Bay to find Mitch’s truck nowhere in sight, Tayla’s heart sank. Out on the Pacific, surfers dotted black in the blue, the swell lifting their boards up and down as they waited for their turn in the lineup. It had been a hot day, and she longed to join her superficial friends—those regular surfers she nodded hello to as she shared their waves. Fellow travelers on that out-of-your-head road.

Stepping from the car, she recalled the last time they were here: Mitch watching from the shore, his sunglasses firmly in place. And as if fate had waved its hand, he’d arrived at just the right moment. She’d never forget riding the wave successfully for the first time, or Mitch being there to see it.

Her parents didn’t yet know about the surfing—she hadn’t told them of the triumph or joy. The adrenaline. They’d nearly lost her at six, then again as a teenager, and those two events had forged their parenting style for the rest of her life.

She removed her sandals and walked across the sand, holding them with nervous hands. The burnished orange of her full-length linen dress offset her tan, and the float of the fabric around her ankles gave a sense of freedom that matched her mood. The jeans he’d mentioned in the text were in her car, along with her new leather jacket and a pair of Chucks.

Tayla had made her decision about their marriage when they’d met at the cemetery—before that, if she was honest. But right now, her bravado seemed misplaced; Mitch was still nowhere in sight.

With her stomach in knots, Tayla strolled up the beach. She sat on a large log of driftwood, watching as people passed—elderly lovers holding hands, kids joking with each other, and dogs walking their owners. The smoothness of the wood felt cool under the fabric of her dress, and although the wind had died down, the taste of salt lingered on her lips.

Apart from that one text, there had been no contact with Mitch since that day at the cemetery. Five lonely days. Tayla had seen him once, driving his truck along Seaview Road as she waited on her Vespa at an intersection. If he saw her, he didn’t let on. But the next day, a package arrived for her at the hospital. When she pulled back the wrapping paper, a black leather jacket sat nestled in layers of tissue. The card with it read:

For those days when your Vespa just doesn’t cut it.

Love always,

Mitch xx

Tayla had quickly tried it on, smiling as she inhaled the sweet smell of leather. But when she’d texted him her thanks, he hadn’t replied. Even now, with the jacket sitting on the back seat of her car, his lack of communication worried her.

She checked her phone. Five twenty-three. She had no missed calls, no new messages. It reminded her of the day at the chapel when Hayden failed to show. Except without the heat and the wilting bouquet.

As she stood and brushed the sand from her dress, her sight drifted to the south once more. And there he was, standing in the very spot where they’d recited their empty vows. Dressed in a white cotton shirt and jeans rolled up at the ankles, he kept his hands in his pockets. Lying on the rock next to him was his leather jacket and a helmet. She stepped forward, increasing her pace until she reached him. Mitch held out his hand and smiled, and as she took that last step, he did the same.

“Hi.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Then kissed him again as the tension left her body.

“That was nice.” His eyes twinkled in the late afternoon light as he looked down at her. “I miss kissing you.”

“Me too.” They kissed once more, hands entwined as they renewed their connection. “You’ve got your bike running?”

“Yeah. And before we talk, I’d like to take you somewhere. Did you bring your jacket and jeans?”

“Yes, they’re in the car.” She looked over to the Ducati parked on the road verge next to her Subaru. “But are we going on the bike? I don’t have a helmet.”

“Here.” He handed her the helmet. “This one’s for you; mine’s over there. Come on, let’s get you changed.”

Back at the car, Mitch helped her with her jacket and offered instructions on how to ride pillion. He climbed on first, and asTayla snuggled in behind him, she relaxed, the warmth of his back and smell of leather calming her.

Mitch took off slowly, the dust from the gravel road billowing behind them until they reached the Eastern Pacific Highway. She held on tight, scared but exhilarated as he changed gears and increased his speed.

When they reached the turnoff to Cherry Grove, he rode up the driveway and parked in front of the steps leading to the veranda. She climbed off the bike and stood in front of her old family home. Mitch joined her, removing his helmet before helping Tayla with hers.

“How did you enjoy the ride?”

His smile warmed her insides. “It was a bit scary, but I loved it. What are we doing here?”

“I want to show you something. Come on.”

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