Page 70 of Sanctuary at MacLeod's Cove
‘I guess that’s what being home does for you.’
An easy silence fell.
‘I’m glad you’ve come back, Jen.’
‘Me too.’
‘Good. Then…’ He looked around awkwardly as if for inspiration. ‘Then would it be OK if we did this again?’
‘Sure,’ she said, suddenly feeling like a teenager again. ‘I’d like that.’
‘Right. Goodnight, then.’ He stepped away.
‘Goodnight,’ she replied. He smiled and walked back to his car. She stayed there until the car clicked and the lights flared as it unlocked and he drove away. Only then did she walk inside, close the door behind her and smile to herself.
Instead of carrying on up the rough path along the coast to his caravan, an instinct which Sam didn’t question made him turn around at the corner and pull up outside MacLeod’s Cottage again. The light was on in the hall still, but he couldn’t see the light in the kitchen because it faced the sea, not the street.
He felt better being near her. He couldn’t have slept in the caravan, worrying about her and Liam. He looked around and pulled an old blanket over himself and tipped back his seat. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Twenty
Jen awoke with a start. She lay there, her heart beating fast, too scared to move for a few moments, her ears straining to hear whatever noise it was that had woken her. But there was only the soft sound of the morepork owl coming from outside, tucked somewhere in a crook of the gnarled pohutukawa tree, and the clatter of branches against her window.
Rain hammered against the glass. The low-pressure system, which had been threatening all week, had obviously arrived, bringing with it a storm. She turned over on her side so she could see through the partly open door to Liam’s room.
The nightlight wasn’t on. She frowned and flicked on her bedside light. Nothing. The storm must have taken the power out. She half rose out of bed but remembered the switchboard was in the laundry outhouse and thought better of it. She shivered in the chill air and hopped back into bed.
As she snuggled back under the duvet, her thoughts strayed to Sam. With the advantage of hindsight, she could see what had happened fifteen years earlier more clearly now, as if she were remembering other people.
He’d taken it for granted that they’d always be together. His love for her had been as solid as his character. It had been a fundamental part of him, which he’d never questioned, just as he’d never questioned her love for him. And she, young and inexperienced girl that she’d been, hadn’t understood that. But he’d changed now. They both had. Sam wasn’t ever going to take love for granted, and she knew she could trust someone whose actions spoke so much louder than his words.
She rolled over, looking at the rain that was slapping against the window with increasing force and thought of how good Sam was with Liam, especially compared to Alistair. Or compared to anyone, come to that.
She smiled as she thought of the bond Liam also had with her mother and Lucy. He’d been a little shyer at first with her other siblings, but it was clear that Liam enjoyed being part of a large family.
Family.
It was a good word.
Then she heard the sound again, the one that had awoken her, except this time she could tell that it came from downstairs. She wondered what her mother was doing at this hour. Or perhaps she’d only just arrived home? Looked like she’d have to brave the chill night if she wanted to find out.
She swung her feet out of the bed, only pausing long enough to pull on her dressing gown, and stepped quietly onto the landing.
She glanced at Liam’s room, noting the door was partly closed, so she couldn’t see inside the room. She’d left it open. She took a few steps over to his room to check on him and was about to push open the door when the noise sounded from downstairs more loudly.
What was her mother looking for? She headed down the stairs. With no electricity — and the streetlights hidden by the high hedges and trees which lined the property on the roadside — no light entered the house. But she could see the shape of Sam’s car parked outside and felt reassured.
She walked on down the hall and then stopped. Something wasn’t right. She could feel it. She opened her mouth to call her mother, but no sound came. Instead, she continued on to the back of the house, which faced the sea, where the kitchen and family room were. She went quietly, nervous about what she might find.
The door was closed. Again, this was odd. What was her mother doing? Something she didn’t want her to know about?
She listened for a second but could no longer hear anything, so she brushed her sweaty palm down the dressing gown and twisted the handle quietly. The door seemed to squeak even more loudly than usual as it swung on its stiff hinges. She didn’t move for a moment, just scanned the room. There was no sign of her mother.
Panic then fuelled her movements, and she stumbled into the room, looking around wildly.
‘Looking for someone?’
Alistair. His chilly English tones, which used to thrill her, now did the opposite. Ice flooded her veins. She turned around to find him closing the door behind him.
