Page 30 of Sanctuary at MacLeod's Cove
‘Would you like me to take a look?’
‘No, it’s fine,’ said Jen. ‘I can walk.’
‘I’m sure you can. But my car’s right outside and you look done in.’ He thrust his hands into his pockets and raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s one or the other, Jen.’
Jen held up her hands in surrender. ‘OK, if you wouldn’t mind looking at the bike, that would be great.’
‘Sweet. I’ve got some stuff in my car which should do the trick.’
Jen retrieved the bike from the back of the café and brought it around the side of the building. She hovered while Sam did a quick inspection, found the split and quickly repaired it.
‘There, that will keep you going until I can get you a replacement.’
‘Sam! You’ve done enough. You don’t have to get a replacement.’
‘I know I don’t, but I’m going to.’ He took a step towards her, and she looked up at him with wide eyes. ‘Do you know why?’
She shook her head. She was suddenly out of words.
‘Because I can, and that’s what friends do.’ His eyes roamed her face, as if looking for some kind of response. Unfortunately, the blinking of her eyes and thumping of her heart didn’t give him the message she hoped to convey. ‘See you around then, Jen,’ Sam turned to walk away.
‘See you around,’ she whispered to herself, her mind replaying the phrase. She closed her eyes. Did he mean in the café, or was there something more? A promise of rekindled friendship, or perhaps the faintest hint of old flames flickering to life? She opened her eyes, shaking off the thought. He was part of a past she couldn’t allow herself to revisit.
For now, she needed to focus on the present, one cup of coffee at a time.
Chapter Nine
The next day, Sam decided not to visit the café. Yes, he had a new tyre for Jen’s back wheel in his truck, and yes, he was hungry, but he didn’t feel ready to see that face again which reminded him of all he’d lost and what an idiot he’d been. It was too much to deal with.
Instead, he slammed the car door and stepped onto the grass verge beside the clearing where the skeletal framework of his beach house dream lay exposed to the coastal winds.
The morning sun cast long shadows from the pillars which soared upward, supporting nothing but sky. The only other vertical object was his 1970s caravan that squatted in the corner of the section. It was a relic, much like Sam felt himself to be, rusting at the edges and weathered by storms.
He released a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, a mixture of sea-salt air and frustration. His gaze drifted south to where the capital city of Wellington lay, beyond the hills. It was half-an-hour south, but now that the main road had been re-routed east, MacLeod’s Cove was even more of a backwater or retreat — depending on how you looked at it — than ever.
But the thought of Wellington lay heavy on his heart. Because among the glassy towers, his unwanted apartment lingered — a monument to a life he no longer desired or recognised. A relic of his failed marriage.
Sam surveyed the incomplete construction before him — the concrete footings were solid, yet they felt hollow, like him. Like his sister Maisie had accused him of being.
You’re lost.
‘Damn it,’ he muttered to himself. He sat down and rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. He hated it when Maisie’s words or face popped into his head. It brought back the grief all over again.
She’d only been twenty-four years old when she’d died. She’d been so young that no one had diagnosed breast cancer until it had been too late. All during the days when she’d faded before his eyes, her mind and spirit had never wavered — its focus often on him.
And he’d done what he could to follow her wishes. He’d sold his business, moved back to Wellington, bought an apartment his wife had wanted. Turned out it wasn’t the apartment she’d wanted so much as another man. Well, she’d found one of them and hot-footed it back to Sydney before the ink was dry on the divorce papers.
But he still felt no nearer to finding himself. He’d begun to think that there wasn’t anything to find. Not the heart that his sister had believed still beat inside of him. With each passing month, he’d thought his sister had been wrong. It was no longer there. He felt… nothing.
But then he’d seen Jen again.
It was unexpected. Not only her appearance, but the effect she had on him. With just one glance, she’d made things clear again. Like lifting a smothering cloak, which he was so used to, he’d forgotten what it was like to live without.
But she was wary. Something had happened to her to put that distrust in her eyes. There were glimpses of the old Jen, so he knew she was still there. But there was also a brittleness, a sign of a barrier. And he really needed to know what had happened for her to erect that screen between her and the world. But it didn’t look like she was about to tell him anytime soon.
He sighed and looked around the building site. He didn’t have the heart to get stuck in this morning. Instead, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and stripped down to his shorts.
The sand was cold and wet beneath his feet as he walked towards the brilliant blue expanse of the Tasman Sea. It spread before him, turbulent, cool and inviting.
