TWENTY-EIGHT
Twenty-eight
Lottie greeted Cher as she sat down across from her at Skye and Tori’s cafe. She’d been sulking around the house ever since Damian had left, and Cher’s invitation for a coffee seemed like a good idea to get out of her own head for a while.
After giving her order to the waitress, she noticed Cher seemed unusually subdued. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Just dandy,’ she said briskly.
‘Doesn’t sound like it.’
Cher gave a small huff, before rolling her eyes. ‘Well, you’re aware that Clive and I had been … seeing each other.’
Lottie frowned. Who’s Clive? Then it clicked. ‘Oh, Mr Broody from the old cafe, now pie shop?’
‘Yes … well, I should have realised there were a few red flags, but you know me. I’m like a bull, attracted to the damn things,’ Cher muttered. ‘Turns out, he’s got a wife and family back in Woy Woy. He’s decided to go back there.’
‘So the gourmet pie shop’s closing?’ Lottie asked, shocked.
Cher sent her a sidelong glare. ‘That is not exactly the point of what I’m saying right now.’
‘Oh. Sorry,’ Lottie said, wincing. ‘That really sucks, Cher. I’m sorry.’
‘It wasn’t like we were a thing . I’m more annoyed that I didn’t pick up on the signals. I must be losing my touch.’
‘If it’s any consolation, I would never have picked him for someone who had a wife and kids back home either,’ Lottie said.
‘Thanks, pet,’ Cher said, patting Lottie’s hand on the table, ‘but you don’t exactly see anything bad in anyone. I, on the other hand, should have known better.’
Lottie blinked, unsure if being called na?ve was insulting or not. ‘Well, I’m sorry he turned out to be a dirtbag.’
‘Anyway, that’s my excuse for looking down in the dumps. What’s yours?’
Lottie sat back in her seat and smiled her thanks as her coffee was brought to the table, grateful to have the extra time to school her face into the epitome of calm, cool and collected. ‘I’m just missing Damian. He’s still in Sydney tied up with meetings about the dig.’
‘Oh? Any more news? When do they plan to start?’
‘He didn’t have any solid dates. They’re still talking to investors and lodging forms to whoever they have to notify about their intentions. Apparently, it’s pretty involved.’
‘I’d imagine.’ Cher nodded thoughtfully. ‘Has he heard back about the interview for the job in Armidale?’
‘That’s not happening now. Well, at least for the moment,’ she amended.
‘Why not?’
‘He wants to concentrate on the dig at Kate’s.’ She shrugged, like it was no big deal.
‘And you don’t want him to?’
‘I do,’ Lottie corrected quickly, ‘I mean, of course, it’s super exciting,’ she said, then sighed. ‘It’s just that he made all these huge decisions without even talking them over with me—turning down the job, taking off back to Sydney—I feel like suddenly everything fell into place and he didn’t need me anymore. Like now there are more important things he’s invested in. I say it out loud and I know I sound like a pouty girlfriend. I guess I was looking forward to him starting this new job and seeing where it went with us, and now it just feels like it’s at a standstill.’
‘You don’t sound like a pouty girlfriend. He should have included you in those conversations. But maybe it was just a case of everything happening at once and he wasn’t thinking straight? You should talk to him about it.’
‘I don’t want to rain on his parade—he’s got so much going on at the moment.’
Cher nodded. ‘But honey, I’ve seen the way that man looks at you. He might be distracted with all this Catherine business right now, but there’s no way he’s not planning on coming back to you and picking up where you left off. Just give it some time.’
‘You’re right, I know. It’s all happened so fast, I lose track of how long it’s actually been since we met. I’ve just got to be patient.’
‘When the heart knows, it knows.’ Cher squeezed her hand. ‘But I can’t wait to see what they uncover once they start digging,’ she said, looking far more animated than when Lottie had first arrived. Lottie found her previous disappointment also begin to fade as she thought about what they might find. ‘But I’m still so excited that you found Kate’s hut. I wish I’d been with you.’ Lottie had sent through some photos as soon as they’d regained reception on the way back from the hike, knowing Cher was waiting for news.
‘Which reminds me, I only sent you Damian’s photos. I think I still have some on my phone.’ Lottie scrolled back to the hut hike and handed the phone across to her friend, moving her chair closer to explain what each one was.
‘What a shame. There’s nothing really left,’ Cher said sadly. ‘It looks so beautiful up there, but can you imagine having all those kids, washing and cooking and trying to keep them all warm?’
‘But imagine the life those kids would have had with a creek at their doorstep and all that bush around them,’ Lottie said with a smile. She continued to scroll through the photos of the site, then frowned as she realised the ones near the creek weren’t there. ‘I thought I had some photos of the creek to show you, but the stupid camera mustn’t have clicked. Oh well, hopefully you can get up there and see it for yourself.’
‘Maybe once they put in some kind of road. Madame Dubois doesn’t hike.’
‘A road would definitely make it easier,’ Lottie agreed. She felt better after talking it through with her best friend. Cher was right—as she usually was when it came to practical advice. Damian hadn’t given her any reason to believe he’d changed his mind about their relationship. She just needed to stop worrying about it. And that was fine for someone who likes to live in the moment, but a tad more difficult when you were a person who liked to have a plan.
Damian’s return three days later brought a small measure of relief. He hugged her tightly, barely making it into the house before he was kissing her.
‘God, I missed you,’ he said, bowing his head to look down into her face.
‘I missed you too.’
‘Yeah, but I really missed you,’ he said back, smiling that familiar, sexy half-smile.
She led him inside and down the hall to her bedroom and spent a long time arguing over who, in fact, missed whom the most.
Later, over a hastily made dinner of scrambled eggs and toast, Lottie caught up on all the news he had to share. Mike would be bringing a team of producers and archaeologists to inspect the homestead site and begin a survey of the area. It was going to take time to find the answers they were after, but this story was clearly just as fascinating to others as it was to Damian and Lottie, and people wanted answers.
Around town, word had spread about the interest in the old homestead site and talk of treasure hunters searching for the missing bushranger loot soon began circulating. It hadn’t mattered how many times Lottie had personally corrected anyone retelling her the gossip, everyone was convinced the dig was about locating the valuables that folklore told Jack McNally and his gang had hidden over the years and which had never been recovered.
Lottie couldn’t understand how anyone would consider that more interesting than locating the body of a woman who’d been missing for over a century and a half, but it seemed yet again that bushranger legends held a lot more appeal, and missing loot was more exciting than a woman no one remembered.
Life found a new routine. It was now a waiting game for the dig to get organised, which could take months. It wasn’t exactly how she’d thought life after the festival would be. With everything that had been going on around them, she’d never really managed to think about what that might look like, but at least he was still here. Yet, she didn’t feel settled. There was an unpredictability to it, as though at any minute, it could all change. They spent the same, if not more, time together since he’d moved into her house … but he hadn’t moved in, not really. He’d unpacked a duffle bag.
She decided to raise the subject that had been on her mind one evening after dinner. ‘Have you thought about what you might do once all this finishes?’
‘To be honest, I haven’t been thinking about anything that far ahead at the moment. Why?’ he asked, glancing up from the plate he was drying.
‘I just wondered,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I mean, what if the Armidale job isn’t available later? Then there’s what to do about your apartment. You might need to sort some stuff out soon.’
‘There’s plenty of time for that.’
‘I just thought—’
‘You,’ he said, leaning in close and kissing her lips, ‘think too much,’ he finished, taking the glass she was washing out of her hands and placing them around his neck.
‘I’m dripping all over you,’ she tried to protest as water soaked his shirt.
‘Just the way I like it,’ he whispered into her ear, swallowing her emerging smile, steering her from the kitchen into the bedroom and effectively ending the discussion.
She understood things weren’t quite as straightforward as they’d hoped them to be when they’d discussed him taking a job in Armidale, but he hadn’t really committed to this new job up here, and he hadn’t made any move to end his lease on his apartment or to find anything up this way. Every time she tried to bring it up, he told her not to worry. But she did worry. She was sure it was nothing and yet, in the back of her mind, it felt as though he was holding out on committing to the plan he’d seemed so keen on.
Everything was still the same as it had been before, kind of. She went to the shop and he stayed home and wrote. He’d sometimes bring his computer to the shop and work in the back room while she continued to plug away at her book. In the evenings, they’d read in bed or talk about their research, and they still couldn’t keep their hands off each other most of the time … but there was just something . Everything seemed to hinge on this dig. Once he found Catherine … Once he found the missing piece of the jigsaw that continued to elude him … Once he had the answers for his book … Then they could concentrate on the future and make their plans.
The question that nagged at Lottie was: what if he didn’t find Catherine? What if he never got his answers about what happened to her? Would he be able to let go of all that? Finish his book with no fact-based resolution and move on? She worried about the answer to that question more than she cared to admit.
Winter had well and truly settled in. The days were sunny, but the air was cold.
Cher had received an invite to go on tour with her old company and would be away for a few weeks, leaving the bar to be run by the capable Lenny, and Lottie missed being able to drop by to catch up with her friend at random. Her mother had decided to deal with her near-love situation by completely wiping it from her mind and preparing for back-to-back, week-long retreats at her spa. For someone who embraced her inner wellbeing, she could conveniently ignore her own advice.
‘Let’s take a break,’ Lottie announced one lazy Sunday morning as she and Damian sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee over their usual reading material.
‘A break?’ Damian lifted his eyebrows.
‘Yeah. We haven’t been for a ride in a while. We never got out to Gostwyck Chapel, and I’ve been wanting to take some photos for ages.’
While Damian got the bike ready, Lottie threw together some food for a picnic, albeit a picnic that would fit into the rather limited space in the gear bag on the back of the bike. She wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to do a long trip on a bike like Damian often talked about doing. Packing light to Lottie meant using one suitcase instead of two; on a bike, it meant packing maybe only two sets of clothing. What kind of psychopath did that?
‘It’s going to be cold,’ Damian warned her as they pulled on helmets.
‘It’ll be fine,’ she told him blithely. How bad could it be?
Turned out, it could be pretty bad.
The wind seemed to pass right through the long-sleeved shirt she wore underneath the jacket and into her bones. Lottie was pretty sure she’d never been this cold in her entire life, but she was determined not to let Damian know. Her fingers felt like ice chips. Gloves , she mentally added to her list of things to buy.
However, the scenery helped to take her mind off the fact she might end up with hypothermia. She’d been out to the little chapel a number of times, and it always took her breath away. It constantly changed its appearance, depending on which season you visited. In summer and spring, the old stone building was covered in a deep green vine, but in autumn, it turned a brilliant deep crimson and was absolutely breathtaking. The avenue of two hundred golden-coloured elms surrounding the chapel looked like something out of a medieval story book. It was hard to believe it had only been built in 1921.
‘Wow,’ Damian said, taking in the view after he parked the bike and they had removed their helmets.
‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ She never tired of looking at it, and even though she must have taken a hundred photos over the years, she could never resist taking more each time she visited.
‘How are your hands?’ he asked, stepping closer and taking them in his.
‘I don’t know yet, I stopped being able to feel them about half an hour ago,’ she said lightly, although she was only half joking.
‘I’ll warm them up,’ he said, unzipping his jacket and tugging her closer so her hands could wrap around his warm torso. She loved him right at that very moment because she was positive, if the roles were reversed, there was no way on God’s green earth she would let Damian put his freezing cold hands anywhere near her warm body.
She could have stood there all day, snuggled close and wrapped in his arms, soaking in the beauty of the old chapel, and she probably would have if another car hadn’t driven up and parked nearby.
Tourists , she thought with a touch of irritation at having her idyllic moment interrupted, before remembering she was basically a tourist too. But still …
They moved apart and strolled around the grounds of the small church. Lottie snapped a heap of photos and swore these were even more breathtaking than the last lot she took. She managed to take a few sneaky ones of Damian as he studied the building and was no doubt tucking away something history-related in his brain to pull out and examine at a later date. She loved the angles of his face—his jawline and the column of his throat as he tipped his head back to look up at the roof. She snapped the photos and experimented with the settings, blurring the church in the background and focusing on the man in the forefront. She looked down at the screen and scrolled through the images she just took. She loved everything about him.
‘How are they?’ he asked, startling her as he came up beside her.
‘Yeah. Great,’ she said quickly, closing the camera app and looking up at him, catching her breath as she lost herself in his beautiful eyes. She’d never understood the phrase she sometimes read in books about drowning in someone’s eyes until this very moment. That was exactly what it felt like. His slow smile melted her heart and she felt herself being drawn towards him. As their lips touched, she felt him pause before his smile widened and his mouth took hers gently. She would never get tired of that sexy smile.
I love him .
The thought felt so intense that, for a moment, she thought she’d said it out loud. She should tell him. Just say it , a little voice urged her, and she took a breath in. At that moment a high-pitched laugh sliced through the air from a woman rounding the corner with two friends and the spell was broken, the moment lost.
‘Come on, I’m starving,’ Damian whispered, and—even though she was disappointed that a perfect, romance-movie-worthy moment had been ruined—being tucked in tightly by his side as he smiled tenderly at her was all she really needed.
‘These sandwiches are amazing,’ Damian said, after devouring two halves and reaching for another. ‘What do you do to them?’
‘Nothing, really. It’s just chicken and mayo,’ Lottie answered with a shrug, munching happily as the sun finally warmed through the last of her frozen extremities.
‘Well, they’re the best I’ve ever had.’
‘Play your cards right and I might make them for you again one day,’ she told him with a playful wiggle of her eyebrows.
His phone interrupted and he sent her a lopsided grin of apology before pulling it from his pocket and looking at the screen. She saw his look of surprise before he answered and listened intently. ‘That’s brilliant news, mate,’ he said finally. ‘Yeah, absolutely. No worries. See you then.’ He gave a small, pleased huff as he put his phone back in his pocket and looked up at her. ‘That was Mike. We just got the go-ahead. We’re starting the dig as soon as he gets up here. As early as the day after tomorrow.’
‘That’s great,’ she enthused, and it was. The sooner they got this dig over with, the sooner the uncertainty she was feeling about their future could be put to rest. Then she felt a twinge of guilt. This was a big deal to him—well, to everyone, if she was being honest. Actually finding out what really happened to Catherine and bringing her story to light, well, that would be huge. This was bigger than those niggling doubts. She just needed to let things unfold and see what happened.
If only it was that easy to switch it off .