18. Sharing Spaces
18
SHARING SPACES
Maintaining a long-held belief about someone when their actions have you questioning everything about that belief was not an easy task. As a teenager, Tayla had been scared stiff of Mitch after his accusation. Every time she saw him that summer, her stomach tied itself in knots. Now, the more she got to know him, the more his persona softened that memory.
After a large breakfast, Mitch left the loft, Edward lagging behind. When she’d thanked him for the surfboard and wetsuit, he’d looked genuinely pleased with himself, as if he wanted to please her as well.
Tayla studied the space. A large sectional sofa flanked by two leather chairs dominated one end of the room, and against the back wall, a dartboard waited for someone to hit the bullseye.
Mitch had told her to make herself at home, so she opened the fridge to look for juice. There was none, but it was full to the brim, and the pantry was the same. Jars of nuts and seeds and interesting grains lined the shelves, along with olive oils and an incredible array of spices. It seemed Mitch was quite the home chef.
She opened the door to his office and peeked inside. Full of books and files, it was much bigger than she’d expected, with two computers on the desk and a large leather sofa against one wall. She wondered if he ever snoozed there on a sunny afternoon. It looked so comfortable, she wanted to lie down herself. But she should unpack and box up her dress for the dry cleaners.
Back in her room, Tayla checked her reflection in the mirror on the wall. She ran her fingers through her hair, untangling a few knots at the ends as she contemplated getting it cut—nothing drastic, just to shoulder length. Hayden had loved her hair. He’d wrapped his hands around it when they kissed. And she’d reveled in that feeling of being held so tightly that he’d never let her go. Never let her fall.
Funny how the mind can play elaborate tricks when you want something badly enough.
She made a mental note to check out the salons in town.
Later, as Tayla walked through the packing shed, past a young man standing at the conveyer belt grading fruit, she thought of Norman. How proud he would’ve been of Mitch and Lime Tree Hill’s transformation. ‘The boy’ was now a man, leaving his mark on the world with a gentle hand.
They’d arranged to meet at two, so Mitch could take her to the cemetery. True to his word, he pulled up right on the dot. When she climbed into the Hilux, she was impressed by how spotless he kept it for a work vehicle. But everything about him was meticulous. From his well-pressed jeans and shirts to his home and office, it was clear her new husband liked order. Just like his late grandfather.
“How’s your morning been?” he asked as he drove down the driveway.
Surreal. “Good.” She turned to him and smiled. “Thanks for doing this…coming with me. ”
“No problem.” Mitch made a left at the highway. “Ned and Maggie want us to call in for a drink around five.”
“Both of us?”
“Yes, both of us. We’re a couple now.”
“Well, not really, but…”
He chuckled. “Did you give this any thought before you decided to marry me, or did you think life would carry on regardless?”
“Of course. I know what I have to do.”
Mitch glanced her way. “Good.”
The small cemetery was less than a hundred yards from the chapel Mitch had suggested as their wedding venue. He stopped in a deserted parking spot overshadowed by a row of blue gums. Despite the warm autumn day, the sky was overcast, with sheets of misty rain blanketing the coast.
Tayla turned to fetch her bouquet from the back seat and was surprised when Mitch opened the door for her a few seconds later, offering his hand to help her down. His scent enveloped her—a mix of cologne and whatever he used to launder his clothes. Probably some kind of eco-friendly liquid with hints of lavender and tea tree.
They walked across the park-like grounds together, Mitch with his hands in his pockets, Tayla clutching her bouquet for dear life. Once again, she compared the neat little posy she held in Sydney and the wild, flamboyant arrangement Mitch had picked for her. Stopping when he did, she spied a small plaque in front of them.
“This is it.” He looked at her, his expression unusually solemn.
Tayla wanted to reach for him, to pull him into a hug. But instead, she crouched beside the grave and placed the wilted bouquet on the grass in front of the plaque. They stood in silence for a moment before she asked, “What sort of relationship did you have with Norman before he died?”
Mitch rubbed a hand over his chin. “Fractured, I guess. He was a control freak and the most narrow-minded man I’ve ever met. Once his depression took over, I hardly ever saw him out of that plaid dressing gown. Mum never warmed to him.”
“Why was that?”
“He treated her badly early on. Never thought she was good enough for his only child. Mum fell pregnant when she was barely nineteen. Norman refused to let them marry. They did anyway, but he never acknowledged her. He thought she’d trapped my father.”
“What happened to him…your dad?”
He indicated to the left. “He’s there, and that’s my grandmother’s grave to the right.”
Tayla’s heart felt like it was beating out of her chest. She’d asked him to come, giving little thought to his feelings or connecting the three similar-looking plaques. When she’d attended Norman’s funeral, no one had ever mentioned he’d been buried between his wife and son. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“It’s okay.” Mitch shifted his attention from her to his father’s last resting place. “My grandmother was driving my father into town when she had some kind of blackout at the wheel. The car crossed the center line and collided with a milk tanker. They both died at the scene. He was twenty-two, she was forty-eight. Norman never got over it.”
Tayla crouched down again and read part of the inscription on his father’s grave. Nicholas Harrington. A life cut short… She looked up. “He told me he was a widower and that he’d also lost a son, but he never talked of the circumstances. How old were you?”
“Just turned two. Too young to remember him, but Mum kept his memory alive. My stepfather couldn’t have been a better dad though. He loves me like one of his own. In fact, he was often a lot tougher on the girls than he was on me.”
Tayla pulled two roses from the bouquet and handed them to Mitch, who placed one each on the grave of his father and grandmother.
“Norman taught Tim and I to dance, did you know that?”
“Seriously? ”
“We’d decided to go to the school ball together,” Tayla recalled. “Norman offered to teach us the waltz. The night of the ball, we called in to Lime Tree on the way. When he saw me in my gown and without the goth makeup, he got so emotional that he cried. It was the first time he’d ever let me hug him.” Tayla’s eyes pricked with tears. She turned away, embarrassed by the sudden rush of emotion.
“Hey.” He rubbed a hand up and down her back. “It’s okay.”
“Sorry, it’s been such a difficult time lately.” She blinked hard, wiping her fingertips along the rim of her lower lashes. “Norman was a good friend to me.”
“You were one of the few people who ever got through to him in his later years.”
“Maybe because he saved my life.”
“Maybe.”
They rode home in silence, but the journey back to the orchard was anything but quiet for Tayla. What would Norman have said about her marriage to Mitch? About their deception? The thought of going to Ned and Maggie’s played on her mind. It seemed too early in their marriage to act out the lie. She needed more time to get used to the idea.
Upstairs, she rummaged through her closet for something to wear, choosing an olive-green crossover style dress with a tie around the waist, and espadrilles with ankle straps. When she entered the living room, Mitch had changed also, into a white linen shirt and black jeans. Tight black jeans.
He looked her up and down without a word, then turned and grabbed a bottle of wine off the counter. And as she followed him down the stairs, she couldn’t still the butterflies in her stomach.
“I should have made something to take.”
“Don’t worry, Maggie will have nibbles. She loves to cook.” He checked his watch. “We’d better take the Can-Am or we’ll be late.”
“You mean the four-wheeler?”
He grabbed a set of keys off a hook in the garage. “Yeah. Looks like that pretty dress has plenty of room for movement.” He lifted the lid of the hold and placed the wine inside. “Hop on.”
Tayla climbed on, surprised at how comfortable it was, and as he sat in front of her, she grabbed the hand grips and held on tight.
He took off toward Ned’s, increasing speed as they rode along the river track. With the wind in her hair and Mitch at the wheel, she wanted to lean into his back, feel the warmth of him and forget about the part she’d agreed to play.
“Shit.” Mitch slowed as he reached the gate. “Looks like we have a staff party in progress.”
Tayla looked at the cars parked all over the driveway. “Should we come back another time?”
Mitch hopped off. “No, I think we’re the guests of honor.” He offered his hand and helped her down. “Come on Mrs. Harrington. It’s show time.”
“But you said it was a quiet drink.” She stood on the drive and ran her fingers through her hair.
“Yep. Looks like our hosts had other ideas.” He looked at her and smiled, then reached out and brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Take a deep breath. You’ll be fine.”
Tayla’s heart fluttered. He offered his hand, and she took it. And as they walked through the door, she felt her apprehension vanish as Ned and Maggie welcomed her warmly.
“What’s all this?” Mitch asked Ned as he accepted two glasses of champagne and handed one to Tayla.
“We couldn’t let the staff find out through the grapevine.” Ned tapped the side of his glass with a teaspoon. All eyes looked his way. “Everyone, may I present Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. Congratulations, you two. May your days be filled with love and laughter. ”
Tayla looked around the room and smiled as everyone lifted their glasses in a toast then yelled, “Speech, speech.”
“Wow, when Ned asked us to come over for a drink,” Mitch said, “I didn’t expect it to be a full-on party, but thanks, Maggie and Ned, for hosting this impromptu gathering. As you all know by now, Tayla and I took a trip to Petrie Bay yesterday and came back married. While I was going to tell you all soon, this is a nice way to do it. So thanks for coming, guys, and please enjoy your evening.”
“Right,” Ned said. “I better put the steaks on the grill. Go show off your wife. She deserves it.”
Mitch put his arm around her waist, and as they weaved their way into the crowd, he introduced her to so many people, she didn’t know how she’d ever remember their names.
As the evening progressed, Mitch stayed by Tayla’s side until she went to help Maggie with the dishes.
“You realize we’re going to have to do this all over again when Jean and Barry get home,” Maggie said as they stacked the dishwasher.
“I was just thinking the same thing. Thank you, I’ve really enjoyed my night.”
“Well, Mitch has been like a son to us. It’s the least we could do.”
“There you are.” Mitch looked around the kitchen, his gaze settling on Tayla. “I came to help, but I guess you’re all done.”
“We are,” Maggie said. “Time to take Tayla home.”
“Yes. I have work tomorrow, and I’m a little tipsy. And, I have to get on that four-wheeler.”
“Do you want me to go home and get the car?” Mitch asked.
Tayla looked at him and smiled. “Where’s the fun in that?”
With goodbyes over, she climbed on the Can-Am behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight. And as Mitch pulled away, Tayla rested her head between his shoulder blades and smiled .
He stopped outside the garage door, and as he climbed off, she missed the warmth of his back. She sat for a moment.
He offered his hand. “Are you okay?”
“Um…yeah, great.” She looked skyward. “Wow, look at those stars. It’s such a beautiful night. I could just sleep here.”
He chuckled. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
“But weren’t we going to call your folks?”
“Maybe tomorrow. I think someone’s had one glass too many.”
“And…I ate way too much. Man, Ned cooks a great steak, doesn’t he?” She giggled as he helped her down. “I won’t be able to do up my jeans if I stay here much longer.”
In the kitchen, Mitch poured her a glass of water and handed her two paracetamol. “Here, you better take these.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine, really.” She threw back the pills and drained the glass. “I’m off to bed. Goodnight.”
“Sleep well.”
She went to step away but turned back. “Hey, Mitch?”
He looked up from putting her glass into the dishwasher.
“That was a great night, wasn’t it. Neat people, amazing food and wine.” She paused. “I like it here.”
He flashed an amused smile. “I’m glad.”
She pointed toward the hallway. “Anyway, time for bye-byes.”
“’Night, Tayla.”
Making her way to the bedroom, Tayla glanced at her phone as it pinged. She flopped on the bed. It was late. She wanted to sleep. Wanted to rest her head between Mitch’s shoulders as she drifted off.
Lisa: You really do pick your moments, don’t you?
Tayla: ???
Lisa: You go off on a whim and MARRY the boy next door when Dad’s out of action. Don’t you think that’s a MEGA shellfish move on your part ?
Tayla: Mega shellfish? You mean like oysters or scallops? ROTFL.
Lisa: Stupid phone. You know exactly what I mean. Brat!
Tayla: I do. And point NOT taken. Go to bed. You’re grumpy and SHOUTING.
Lisa: Yes because I’m MAD at you. You can’t just go off and get married without telling anyone. And to Mitch!! Rebound much.
Tayla: Oops. I didn’t get that memo. Naughty Tayla. Goodnight. Love you xx
Tayla threw her phone onto the bed and giggled. She was officially a brat. A married brat. “Wow. Way to go me.”
She thought of Mitch, lying in bed next door. Had he received a similar text from one of his sisters, telling him what a naughty boy he’d been? If he did, would he think it was funny too? And was he thinking of her arms around his waist as they rode home along the river track under the stars?
She hoped so.