Page 14 of The Beach Cottage
“I’m sure it will turn up.” Rowan wandered off with a slow wink at Penny, whose cheeks flushed red.
“He’s so full of himself,” Penny said.
Bea bit down on her lower lip.
“With good reason,” Taya added with a sigh as she lay back on her towel. “Did you see those abs?”
Penny grunted. “Who cares about his abs? He could at least pretend to be humble.”
“I think he’s just teasing you. He’s not so bad,” Bea said, lying on her back with her hands linked beneath her head. She stared up at the perfect, cloudless blue sky overhead. It was a beautiful day; she couldn’t imagine any other way to make it better. Except, perhaps, if Aidan was beside her.
Seven
The next day, Bea was miserably sunburned. She’d applied suncream but hadn’t reapplied often enough throughout the day, and now she was as red as a lobster on a buffet table.
She studied her back in the mirror, grimacing at the pain as she turned her head. There was nothing for it but to find some aloe vera to apply. Dad had plenty in his garden, which boasted an extensive collection of herbs and flowers. She could usually find whatever she needed for a natural remedy within his expansive grounds.
She threw on a light dress and an enormous straw hat to protect herself from the already glaring morning sun and padded up the hill to her father’s large house. It looked like a sentinel staring out to sea as it guarded the island headland. Built of weathered timber, it was surrounded by maturing trees and shrubbery. Her father loved to putter around his garden and had a very effective green thumb — everything he grew flourished, while Bea’s attempts always seemed to end in brown, limp plants and spindly trees.
Inside the house, the air-conditioning cooled her overheated skin, and she shut the door behind her, leaning against its smooth surface for a moment. Dad poked his head out of the kitchen, a tea towel slung over his shoulder.
“Good morning, love. Care for some pancakes?”
“Yes, please. That sounds delicious.” She wandered into the kitchen, set her hat on the bench and poured herself a cup of coffee. “I got badly burned yesterday.”
He glanced at her. “So you did. I’ve got plenty of aloe in Mum’s garden.”
“Thanks, Dad.” He always called it Mum’s garden, even though she’d been dead for over two decades. Bea’s mother had planted it when Bea was a child. She had fond memories of traipsing through the strawberry patch, stuffing her mouth full of sweet, red berries. “I’ll pick some now and then come back in to eat.”
She went out the back and stuck to the shade along the side of the house as best she could. Any advance into the sunlight was painful on her shoulders. She should’ve left the hat on. Within minutes, she’d found the aloe plant, broken off a leaf and applied it to her skin. She collected a few more pieces and took them inside to put in a baggie to take home.
Dad set two plates of pancakes, along with fresh berries and yoghurt, on the table. She sat opposite him with her cup of coffee.
“This looks absolutely wonderful. You’ve become a real chef lately, Dad. Very impressive.”
“Thanks, love. I was going to eat alone, but I’m very happy to have the company. It’s been so nice having you live just down the hill. I assume you’ll consider staying a while longer, now that you’re opening the cafe.”
She sliced off a piece of pancake and chewed. The freshness of the berries and the creamy yoghurt made her taste buds tingle. She swallowed. “I love it here. The cottage is perfect for me. I’m planning on sticking around indefinitely—I have no desire to go back to Sydney. I miss the kids, of course, but they’re coming home as soon as the semester is over.”
He smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“And how are you feeling, Dad?”
“Good,” he said. “I thought I had a cold coming on yesterday but seem fine today. Why do you ask?” He studied her face, then his brow furrowed. “Oh, you’ve been speaking to your brother. Haven’t you?”
She pushed a smile across her lips. “Sorry, Dad. He wanted me to know.”
“It’s not a big deal. I hope he told you that.”
“He said you’ve been feeling dizzy and unwell for a while. I wish you’d said something.”
“You’ve got enough on your plate without worrying about me.”
“I like worrying about you, Dad.” She squeezed his hand across the table.
“Well, I don’t want you to fret. I’m sure it’s nothing. It might be my blood sugar, or perhaps I’m dehydrated. My blood pressure was fine, so I don’t think it’s that.”
“I know it could be nothing, but let’s face whatever it is together. Okay?” Her stomach clenched even thinking about it. The idea that he might be sick, that something might tear them apart after they’d only recently reconnected, made her anxious. “I don’t want…” She choked on a lump in her throat.
