“Isn’t that funny coming from you.” Celeste flopped onto the stool. The same stool that Sara usually perched on while she watched him fry bacon and eggs.
“So I fudged the details a bit about the accommodation. Big deal. Skye is happy here and she’s all that matters.”
Celeste latched onto his comment eagerly. “Exactly.”
He simply raised a brow and leaned back against the cupboard.
“Alright. Paris didn’t happen. Our little fling is over. Are you happy? Antoine had some emergency thing with his wife.”
“He’s married?”
“Don’t be such a prude!” She flapped a hand in the air. “You can’t talk. What about your precious Sara?”
“That is different. Leave her out of it.”
Celeste stopped smiling and squinted. She really should get stronger contacts or get something done about her eyesight. “When Skye texted me how some woman was living with you, I did a little digging on the internet. The information wasn’t hard to find. You’ve really got it bad, haven’t you?”
“You have no idea.”
Celeste slid off the stool and coming over, laid a hand on his arm. She cooed, “I forgive you. Why I’m really here is because I want to try again. You and me. It’s what Skye would love most of all, to see us together. For us to be a family again. What do you say, Darim? Let’s get re-married for our daughter’s sake.”
CHAPTER11
Heat poured from the brilliant blue sky and simmered from the earth beneath Sara’s sneakered feet as she hammered in the last peg holding fast the‘Palms Read & Fortune’s Told’gazebo. Its purple gauzed curtains hung limp in the still air. Everywhere she looked, were smiling faces and happy people. It only served to make her feel more isolated as Lette Park began to swell with Bindarra Creek’s inhabitants. Not for the first time did she wonder whether she should have avoided the Christmas Eve Community picnic altogether. But she needed to see him. Whether he wanted to see her was another matter entirely.
After that witch’s announcement and not wanting to hang around to face Darim’s rejection, Sara had done what she did best – retreated. She needed time alone to think.
More than that she needed time to nurse her wounded heart.
But as the days passed and loneliness ate like poison inside, she finally accepted she had to face her demons. Even if the result was rejection from the man she loved.
“That should do it.” Satisfaction oozed from Ms. Edwina Lette’s voice from where she perched on a scarlet and flame coloured cushion. Reposing in a wicker picnic basket that had been transformed into a dog carrier sat her new puppy. Boris panted happily and watched with bright brown eyes.
“You could have helped.”
“Pwush. I’m under orders from the doc to take it easy.”
Sara straightened and after pulling a tissue from the pocket of her red dress, dabbed the sweat prickling her hairline. “Dodge will be happy to know that you’re obeying instructions for once,” she responded wryly knowing full well the elderly woman only listened to others when it suited her. That meant she had her reasons for hanging around instead of hanging with her cronies who not only formed Bindarra Creek’s formidable bush telegraph but were also behind most of the small town’s recent transformation into a thriving community. She shot Edwina a suspicious glance then tucked the hammer into her small toolbox. After securing the box, she placed it neatly by her feet. “You want something. That’s why you rounded up Dodge to find me and insist I help out today.”
An expression flittered across the older woman’s face too fast for Sara to interpret as she scrambled from the cushion.
Sara moved over to help.
“It’s not what I want – it’s what you want, child.” Faster than a striking snake, Ms. Lette snatched Sara’s hand. But instead of turning it over and mumbling her usual parlour tricks, she clasped it gently in between both of hers and fell silent for several minutes.
Laughter and chatter hummed in the hot air. The Christmas Eve community picnic was gathering speed with every tick of the clock as more and more people arrived in the park. Some headed straight to stake a claim in a patch of grass by setting up their own gazebos or picnic rugs and camping chairs. Others had covered the park’s timber tables with food and eskies. More were checking out the booths and stalls, or placing their names with volunteers for sack races, three-legged races, and the egg and spoon races. The mobile rock climb was in the process of being erected while several elves decorated the rotunda for Santa’s visit later in the day.
Senior police constable Abby Taylor in her uniform strolled by, her little chihuahua Pinky tucked under one arm. Her husband, captain of the local SES, set down a massive esky beside one of the free barbeques. Several other SES members joined him, along with his and Abby’s two red-headed sons Drew and Eddie. As soon as the boys set down their burdens of foil covered trays, they quickly sidled away joining a group of smiling teenagers. Kids rushed everywhere, squealing with joy on the swings. The crowd of children and their parents over by the brand-new splash pool was growing larger by the second. The pool which was still barricaded by police tape had yet to be opened by the mayor. Judging by the kids’ avid almost feral excitement, that had better happen soon or there’d be a stampede into the water. If the heat continued throughout the day, more than kids would be paddling in that pool by day’s end.
“You’re too wary, Sara. It’s time to move on from the past.”
A lump clogged Sara’s throat. She had to swallow hard in order to speak. “You don’t know …” She stopped, couldn’t continue, couldn’t reveal the full extent of her shame to a woman who had shown her nothing but kindness.
“No, I don’t. But I know my grandson and he considers you to be a woman of integrity. One of his closest friends, actually. And I’ve come to know you myself since you’ve been here, and I like what I know. You’re not alone, Sara. Dodge, Warren, Tessa, Lou and all the kids as well as me – well, you’re part of our family now. Whether you like it or not.” The last was flung out like a challenge but with an accompanying warm smile.
Eyes stinging, Sara remained mute, her tongue feeling glued to her mouth.
She wasn’t alone.