Chapter 6
Hope
It’s a little past five in the evening when I pull into the driveway of our three-bedroom rental.
The sun is still out, but the porch light is already on, something Adrian does every night while he waits for me to get home.
I know it’s his way of looking out for me.
The neighbourhood is rougher than what we’re used to, and he only wants to make sure I make it back safely.
It’s sweet of him, and I love how caring and attentive he’s been lately, especially after we uprooted our entire life in Sydney to start a new life here on our own.
Needless to say, it hasn’t been the best experience for any of us.
Moving to the coast had been an absolute nightmare from day one.
The rental house we rushed moving into is falling apart, thick with the stench of stale cigarettes and dog urine, and the neighbourhood feels seedy and unwelcoming, the kind of place where walking alone at night isn’t just unwise, it’s unthinkable.
I’m not trying to sound ungrateful. I’ve always been open to new opportunities whenever they’re presented. I just don’t understand why we had to move when our life back home was perfectly fine.
When Adrian announced back in February, that he’d landed a job at a promising new school north of Sydney, close to pristine beaches and national parks, I admit, I was a little shocked at first.
It felt so sudden, especially since he’d never mentioned he was even looking for another job, let alone one in a completely different town.
But when he explained that the lifestyle would be more relaxed and far more affordable than the city, it sounded like a great opportunity for our small family.
And so, we packed up everything we owned, loaded it into a rented truck, put our house up for lease, and drove two hours away towards our new life—all in the matter of two weeks.
But the moment we arrived into town, I genuinely wondered if we’d taken a wrong turn.
It looked nothing like the idyllic photos on the website; if anything, I could’ve sworn I’d seen this place featured in a true-crime documentary.
Even their so-called pristine beaches were a little underwhelming.
We’d only been there for five minutes, and already I was having serious doubts about the whole thing.
“We need to give it a chance, babe,” I recall my husband saying right after we stepped out of the car and onto the driveway of our new home.
Even our eight-year-old son, Zac, wasn’t too impressed.
But out of respect for Adrian and all the effort he put into getting us here, we decided to suck it up and give the place a shot.
And now, here we are, in the small coastal town of Sandy Vale, with a population of just 2,230, where we know not a single soul in sight. Give it a chance, Hope. Just give it a chance.
Switching off the ignition, I step out of the car and give my back a long, relieving stretch, groaning at the stiffness of my muscles after an exhausting nine-hour shift as a community health nurse. I love my job—truly, but some days I wish I didn’t have to work such long, strenuous hours.
If it weren’t for bills, and the two other mouths to feed, I’d happily trade it all in for a tiny plant nursery of my own and spend the rest of my life tending to those instead.
As I step through the front door, I’m instantly greeted by the warm, comforting aroma of garlic and herbs. My stomach growls in protest, probably because the last time I ate was six hours ago.
One thing I’ve always loved about Adrian getting home before me is that he usually has dinner ready before I walk through the front door. After a long, punishing day, there’s nothing better than coming home to my family… and a warm, home-cooked meal waiting on the table.
Locking the door behind me, I wander into the kitchen, following the trail of rich, savoury smells until I find Adrian standing at the stove. He’s focused on the pan in front of him, slowly turning a thick, juicy steak with a pair of tongs.
He hasn’t noticed me yet. For a moment, I simply watch him—the easy way he moves, and the intense concentration on his face, as if he’s concocting something miraculous.
After I’ve had my fill, I close the distance between us, sliding my arms around his waist and leaning in, breathing in the familiar, warm, musky scent of him.
“Mmm… smells so good,” I murmur against his back, the words meant less for the food and more for him.
He chuckles softly, setting the tongs down on the counter before slowly turning to face me. He kisses me gently on the forehead, and I instantly melt into his arms.
“Hey, you. You hungry?”
“Starving,” I reply, leaning slightly to the side to peek into the pan. “What are you cooking? It smells and looks amazing.”
“Steak with garlic and herb butter, roasted carrots and potatoes.”
“Sounds fancy. You spoil us too much, Mr T,” I tease as I press a soft kiss on the tip of his chin.
He lets out a quiet chuckle. “It’s my job to take good care of my family,” he says, looking at me with a warmth and tenderness that settles deep in my chest.
I loop my arms around his shoulders and press my lips to his, feeling his breath hot against my skin. Adrian has always been a steady provider for our family, something he’s taken seriously from the moment we married nine years ago.
I’ve spent years reminding myself just how lucky I am to have someone like him beside me every day, especially when men like him are so rare to find these days.
We were the classic high school sweethearts, together since Year 10 after being paired for a group assignment in English. Over time, we became each other’s firsts in everything—first kiss, first relationship, first sexual encounter.
He was the shy, soft-spoken guy who preferred spending his time in the library rather than out in the school yard with the rest of his peers, while I was the more popular one—always socialising with just about everyone.
We were two very different people, yet there was something about him that held my attention. He wasn’t the most confident or self-assured, but he was sweet and gentle—so unlike the other boys in our grade.
Unfortunately, after graduation, Adrian ended things without warning, and I was completely crushed. We had just received our admission letters to different universities, and he admitted that he wanted to experience uni life without the constraints of a relationship.
I later discovered the real reason behind the break up was because he firmly believed I would eventually leave him, once I realised there were better men out there than him.
He had always been an insecure person. I just hadn’t realised how deeply it ran.
Two years after the break up, we bumped into each other at a mutual friend’s party, and after talking for hours, he asked me out again that very night. We’ve been together ever since.
Life hasn’t always been perfect for us, but we’ve stood by each other year after year. I can’t imagine living any other life than this one, with him.
I glance around the room, noting how unusually quiet it is.
“Where’s Zac?” I ask my husband as he switches off the stove and begins plating our dinner.
“He’s in his room doing his homework... or at least, that’s what I’m hoping he’s doing.”
“I’m going to go in and say a quick hello.”
Adrian nods, carrying the plates to the dining table. “While you’re at it, tell him dinner’s ready.”
“Sure,” I reply, shrugging off my coat and draping it over the island chair.
I reach Zac’s door in seconds, pausing at the silence on the other side. With a gentle knock, I call out his name, waiting for him to answer.
After hearing his muffled ‘come in,’ I slowly open the door to find my son sitting against the bedhead, black headphones on, tapping away on his iPad. He looks up, removes his headphones with a brief nod, and then returns to whatever has captured his attention. This kid! Seriously!
“What? No hello, Mum?” I joke lightly, leaning against the doorframe with my arms crossed.
“Hello, Mum,” my son grumbles, not even bothering to look up from the screen.
Shaking my head, I start walking around his room, picking up his discarded clothes from the floor one by one and tossing them into the laundry basket next to his drawers.
“Whatchya doing over there anyway?” I ask curiously.
“Finishing off a math quiz for school,” he says, holding up the iPad to show me the online quiz he’s been working on.
“Good job. Are you almost finished? Dad said dinner’s ready.”
“I have four more questions left and then I’ll come out.”
I nod. “Well, don’t be too long, okay. We’ll see you out there.” Grabbing the laundry basket that’s practically overflowing with his dirty clothes, I head to the laundry room to start a load before settling down for dinner.
For the next twenty minutes, we sit around the dining table, savouring another one of my husband’s delicious meals while chatting about our day.
Midway through our conversation, Adrian gets up and disappears into the hallway, saying he needed to grab something. Moments later, he returns and places a small package on the table beside my plate. “This came in the mail for you today.”
“Oh, my seeds have arrived!” I beam, tearing open the package and pulling out ten different packets of vegetable seeds.
“Looks like we won’t be seeing your mother for a while, son. She’ll be too busy tending to her other babies.”
“Well, it’s not like there’s much for me to do here. And besides, this place could do with a little more green.”
“Is one of them zucchinis?” Zac asks. He’s been obsessed with fried zucchini flowers ever since he tried them for the first time at a restaurant called Hawkins Bar and Grill. They were absolutely superb, and my son has been eager to go back for more ever since.
“Sure is. I picked it especially for you so we could try making those fried zucchini flowers you loved so much.”
“No offence Mum, I don’t think they’ll be as good as the ones in the restaurant.”
I gasp just as I hear Adrian snort into his drink. I snap my gaze at him, narrowing my eyes, but he simply laughs and shrugs his shoulders. Prick!
“And here I was, planning to surprise you with a trip back to Sydney next weekend to visit that restaurant while we see Nan and Pop. But I guess you can forget about that now,” I say, teasingly.
“What? No! I’m sorry. You’re an amazing cook, Mum!” he quickly adds, backtracking.
Adrian and I both burst out laughing, shaking our heads in unison.
“She’s joking, bud. Your grandparents miss you terribly and can’t wait to see you,” Adrian assures our son.
The look of relief on Zac’s face is almost comical. He doesn’t say another word and goes back to nibbling his steak, perfectly content at the thought of returning to Sydney, even if it’s only for the weekend.
We finish our meal, and I help Adrian clean up while Zac heads back to his room, most likely to get lost in his iPad again.
As I wipe down the counters and put the dishes away, I find myself thinking what I always do before visiting my parents—I can’t wait to head back home to Sydney.