Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Jen jumped to her feet, annoyed at the blush that filled her cheeks over which she apparently had no control.
‘Hey, Jen. I didn’t expect to see you here,’ Sam said, looking perfectly at ease.
‘And I didn’t expect to see you,’ she said, her voice sounding strangely high to her ears. She cleared her throat and rubbed her forehead before remembering the paint on her hands. She swore under her breath.
He laughed. ‘Are you swearing at me…’ He stepped forward and pretended to inspect her face. Her blush deepened, and her mouth dried. ‘Or the fact you’ve got as much paint on your face as you have on the board?’
‘Me. The paint,’ she added to be clear.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’d hate for you to swear at me. Not so soon anyway. We haven’t got past the polite stage yet.’
Yet. The word held the promise of a future she refused to contemplate.
‘So…’ he began, no doubt wondering at her lack of response.
But for the life of her, she couldn’t think of a thing to say. She kept her eyes level with his chest, unable to meet his gaze, as she contemplated a strand of chest hair that popped up over the V of his T-shirt.
‘So…’ he continued again, ‘you’re working here now?’
She nodded and wondered why his t-shirt was so clean compared to his dusty and oil-streaked work jeans.
He’d obviously been working. The stray curl of wood shaving in his hair confirmed the fact.
Then she realised why. She felt an odd pull in her stomach at the thought of him bare-chested under the heat of the summer sun.
She jumped as he touched her shoulder and looked into her eyes.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked.
If she had been before, she certainly wasn’t now.
The look of concern in his eyes cut through the years, taking her back to when he’d first asked her out.
She’d been walking home from the train station in the rain.
He’d been driving by in his father’s ute and had pulled over and asked her if she’d wanted a lift home.
She’d stood there in disbelief that the village heartthrob had asked her to climb into his ute.
Although she hadn’t answered, he’d jumped out, ignoring the deluge, and looked at her in the same way he was looking at her now. As if he cared.
But even if she was right, and he did care, she couldn’t do anything about it. Because his caring weakened her, and she had to be strong for what was coming. For her and for Liam.
She stepped back, and his hand fell from her shoulder.
‘Of course I’m OK,’ she said abruptly, looking away. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said, with a hint of sarcasm in the face of her abruptness. ‘Maybe because you’ve been standing there, staring at me like a stunned mullet.’
She grunted, unable to think of any reason other than the truth why she had indeed appeared like a stunned fish.
She felt like one. Instead of answering, she bent down and began picking up her things.
She hoped he’d move away. But whether from sheer stubbornness or genuine interest, he leaned back against the kitchen counter, folded his arms and watched her.
‘I need to check something with Lucy. She’s got terrible writing. Lucy!’ she called. Hoping her kid sister would come to her rescue. But there was no reply.
‘By the smell of things, your sister is busy creating wonderful dishes for people like me.’
‘People like you?’ The question was spoken before she could curb her curiosity.
‘People who can’t cook and rely on others to cook for them.’
‘Ah, those kinds of people. I’m one of those, too.’
‘You never used to be.’ By the look on his face, it looked like he, too, had let words slip out without thinking.
He rubbed his stubbly jawline — it seemed life in his caravan didn’t involve daily shaves — and cleared his throat before settling his gaze back on her.
She wished he hadn’t. ‘I mean, you were always a wonderful cook. Maybe you’ve forgotten. ’
‘Maybe I don’t want to remember.’
His smile was sad as he understood her meaning. ‘That’s a shame.’
It was, but she couldn’t agree. All she could do was look into his eyes and realise she’d forgotten how blue they were.
She’d also forgotten how they could caress her with just a glance.
Over the years, as she’d lain awake at night trying to figure out how to escape the mess she’d created of her life, she’d decided she’d imagined that particularly unique attribute of his.
Had decided that it had all been a figment of her youthful imagination.
But it wasn’t. Because it had happened again.
He walked over to the bell and rang it loudly before she could form any kind of response. As no one answered it, she followed him to the open kitchen door.
‘Lucy!’ he called, louder than was necessary. ‘You said you wanted me to take something to your mother?’
‘Oh, you’re here already, Sam,’ said Lucy with a wide grin, aimed first at Sam and then Jen. Jen glared at her. Lucy had known full well they were both out here and had stayed in the kitchen on purpose.
‘Yep. You told me to come at midday, and here I am.’
Jen’s frown increased at Lucy. It had been shortly before twelve when Lucy had asked her to write the menu out. It seemed her little sister was more devious than she remembered. And more determined.
‘Excellent,’ said Lucy, ignoring Jen. ‘I’ve got some kitchen stuff of Mum’s and no means of getting it to her. You don’t mind, do you?’ Lucy gave the sweetest smile which, Jen was sure, Lucy knew would only garner a positive response.
‘Of course not,’ said Sam. ‘You know I’d do anything for your mother. She was always good to me when I was a youngster.’
‘Can you wait a few moments?’ asked Lucy. ‘I’ve got to finish something off here. Fancy a coffee? I’ll throw in something sweet, too.’
‘Sure. I’m in no hurry to get back.’
Sam and Lucy both glanced at Jen at the same time.
‘Perfect, thanks,’ said Lucy. ‘Jen, would you mind getting something for Sam?’
‘Sorry,’ said Jen, ‘I’ve got my hands full with this lot.’ She pointed to the box of paints and brushes she was carrying. Before she could react, Lucy had reached over and taken them from her.
‘I’ll take care of that. You get Sam whatever he wants.’
Jen’s gaze followed Lucy into the kitchen.
Why on earth would Lucy think Jen would want to get together with her ex when she’d only just left her husband?
After what she’d been through, she didn’t want anyone ever again.
And not only that, she needed to keep her wits about her, and her defences raised to protect herself and Liam.
Frowning as she thought of what she’d say to Lucy afterwards, she ground the coffee and twisted it into the machine. And then stopped. This was like no coffee machine she’d ever encountered.
‘I’d push that button if I were you,’ said Sam from directly behind her. She pushed the button he was pointing at and hastily placed a cup under the spout. She heaved a sigh and turned to him.
‘Thanks. I haven’t progressed up the ladder to coffee maker yet. I’m on washing-up duty mainly.’
‘It’s good to start at the bottom and work up.’ He leaned against the counter once more. Wouldn’t he ever take a seat?
‘Absolutely. I know my place.’
He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again at the bitter tone that edged her words.
She felt a stab of regret when he turned away from her with no further comment. Her cold defensiveness had become second nature. Yet another thing she needed to shed if she was ever going to return to a world where human beings were nice to one another.
She busied herself with his coffee, and added a raspberry muffin to the saucer as something of an apology for her abruptness.
‘Here you are.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, spooning in sugar and stirring it into his coffee without looking up at her.
She hesitated, her hand bunching in the cloth of her apron as she tried to figure out how to apologise for her abruptness.
He looked up and smiled at her discomfort. ‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘I… wondered if you wanted anything more than the muffin to eat?’
‘What do you recommend?’ His eyes glimmered with a hint of mischief, as if sensing her discomfort.
‘Um, the banana bread is fresh,’ she stammered, feeling her cheeks warm. ‘It’s—’
‘Sold.’ He gave a curt nod, then added with a playful tilt of his head, ‘Unless you baked it?’
‘Hardly,’ Jen laughed despite herself. ‘I’m more the “cause kitchen fires” type.’
‘Good to know I’ll be safe with the banana bread then.’
She hesitated, and he looked up at her in query.
‘And I wanted to say I’m sorry. For earlier.
For being well, snappy. It’s just that things have been a bit…
weird for me recently, and I’m…kind of wary, I guess.
’ She sucked in a deep breath, unwilling to continue in case it turned into a ramble that would see her spilling her heart and soul out to Sam.
‘Apology accepted.’
‘Right,’ she said, and hurried off to fetch the banana bread.
Between searching for more napkins and slicing the bread, she cast surreptitious glances across at Sam.
He exchanged small talk with an older man reading a newspaper before he began reading something on his phone.
He slid the phone back onto the table without answering before glancing up and catching her gaze.
‘Too many texts. There’s always somebody wanting something. ’
‘Tell me about it,’ she said. ‘Can’t do anything or go anywhere without someone knowing. Bit different in our day.’
She immediately regretted opening her mouth. For a moment, their shared history crackled between them like static. Memories of being able to escape the notice of parents and friends and retreat into their own world floated into her mind.
‘Here you go,’ she said quickly, determined to break that connection. She placed a plate with two slices of banana bread and a knob of butter onto his table.
‘Thanks.’ As she turned to leave, he added, ‘So, how are you settling in? I gather it’s been a while since you’ve been back.’
‘Settling? Oh, like dust,’ she quipped, before grimacing at her own awkward humour. ‘It’s OK. Different, but OK.’
‘Running away from more weddings?’ The question lingered, half-joking, half-serious.
She winced. It had been at a friend’s wedding when their own problems had come to a head, and she’d left him. And shortly afterwards fled the country, too.
‘Only my own marriage,’ Jen retorted, her heart skipping a beat. Was he probing or simply making conversation? She couldn’t tell.
He nodded but made no other response.
Jen was saved from further emotional tightrope walking by the entrance of another server, hurrying in for her shift.
‘Excuse me,’ Jen said, gratefully retreating into the sanctuary of the kitchen. Leaning against the cool stainless steel, she closed her eyes and took deep, steadying breaths.
Jen glanced at him on the security camera. Sam was someone from a different life, one she wasn’t sure how to revisit even if she wanted to.
‘OK?’
She looked up into Lucy’s mischievous eyes.
‘You did that on purpose.’
Lucy raised her eyebrows, the picture of innocence. ‘Did what?’
‘You know. And if you’re trying to get us together, I’d rather you didn’t. I’ve got enough on my plate without…’ She waved her hand in Sam’s direction, unable to verbalise exactly what Sam represented.
‘OK,’ said Lucy. ‘Point taken.’
‘Good. Now, where is all the stuff you want Sam to take to Mum’s?’
Lucy shrugged. ‘I made a mistake. I must have taken the stuff before. But’ — she brushed her hands together and stood up — ‘now he’s here he could give you a lift back home, because of your flat tyre.’
Jen’s face went stony. ‘You are trying to match-make, aren’t you? It’s not on, Luce!’
Again, an ambivalent shrug. ‘But he’s here right now, and it is a fact that your tyre is bust.’
‘I can walk.’
‘Course you can. We can all walk, but why do that when there’s a perfectly good lift out there waiting for you? And Jen’ — she said, more softly — ‘any fool can see that Sam still has feelings for you.’
‘Then I’m not any fool,’ Jen grunted. But even as she uttered the words, she knew she was a fool because her sister was right.
She’d seen it in his eyes, too. But she was sure they were remnants only — residual feelings which no doubt would evaporate once he’d got used to seeing her around.
‘I’ll let Sam know he’s no longer needed. ’
Lucy sighed, but Jen turned on her heel and walked out into the café.
‘Sorry, Sam, it looks like we’ve wasted your time. It seems Mum must have moved the stuff back home without Lucy knowing.’
Sam swallowed the last of his coffee and stood up. ‘No problem, I was passing on my way back to Wellington, anyway.’ He pointed to the banana bread. ‘Any chance of a paper bag so I can take it away?’
‘Of course,’ she said, reaching around the counter for a bag, which she slid onto the table.
‘If you’re finishing up, do you want a lift home?’ said Sam.
Lucy appeared out of nowhere. ‘That would be great! Her bike got a puncture on the way here.’
‘Would you like me to take a look?’
‘No, it’s fine,’ said Jen. ‘I can walk.’
‘I’m sure you can. But my car’s right outside and you look done in.’ He thrust his hands into his pockets and raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s one or the other, Jen.’
Jen held up her hands in surrender. ‘OK, if you wouldn’t mind looking at the bike, that would be great.’
‘Sweet. I’ve got some stuff in my car which should do the trick.’
Jen retrieved the bike from the back of the café and brought it around the side of the building. She hovered while Sam did a quick inspection, found the split and quickly repaired it.
‘There, that will keep you going until I can get you a replacement.’
‘Sam! You’ve done enough. You don’t have to get a replacement.’
‘I know I don’t, but I’m going to.’ He took a step towards her, and she looked up at him with wide eyes. ‘Do you know why?’
She shook her head. She was suddenly out of words.
‘Because I can, and that’s what friends do.’ His eyes roamed her face, as if looking for some kind of response. Unfortunately, the blinking of her eyes and thumping of her heart didn’t give him the message she hoped to convey. ‘See you around then, Jen,’ Sam turned to walk away.
‘See you around,’ she whispered to herself, her mind replaying the phrase.
She closed her eyes. Did he mean in the café, or was there something more?
A promise of rekindled friendship, or perhaps the faintest hint of old flames flickering to life?
She opened her eyes, shaking off the thought.
He was part of a past she couldn’t allow herself to revisit.
For now, she needed to focus on the present, one cup of coffee at a time.