Chapter 18
From Mary Duncan’s secret journal:
February 19th, 1972
No matter how many times you tell yourself that you’re over your first love, it isn’t until you run into them face-to-face, six years after they broke your heart, that you realize you’ve been lying to yourself. Today I walked into the medical center to find Jim and two of his three kids sitting in the waiting room. Murphy’s law; there was only one spare seat in the sitting room and it was next to Jim. I was tempted to turn and run away rather than make polite small talk, but I thrust my shoulders back, smiled politely, and took the seat beside him. I admit to a small amount of satisfaction knowing I looked polished and maybe even pretty, while Jim had baggy dark circles under his eyes and I’m pretty sure the baby in his arms had spit up on his shirt.
Actually, that was unkind. You see, while I tried not to think about him, every now and then I’d hear tidbits of news from Stewart Island. Gossip, really. For a while, I hated him with the same passion I’d loved him. He got his childhood sweetheart pregnant and married her. It certainly didn’t take him long to get over me, unlike the months it took me to get over him.
Though, tell the truth and shame the devil, I never really got over him.
Next thing I knew, Jim and his wife—a more suitable girl named Maata— had popped out Jim Junior, then two years later a baby girl, and two years after that Maata fell pregnant again. I hope you believe me, dear journal, when I tell you I derived no pleasure in hearing that Maata died two days after their son was delivered.
I had come to some sort of acceptance by this stage, knowing that Jim was no longer mine, and my heart hurt for him and his three motherless children. Of course, I intended my sympathy to only be shown from afar. I did the only thing I could think of to help him, and that was contacting Oban’s grocery store and setting up an anonymous donation of credit for him. A newborn’s need for formula, plus all the other baby paraphernalia, would put a strain on any family. Especially a man who now had to learn to be both mum and dad to this little baby.
So today I sat beside Jim and took up the role of a concerned but distant acquaintance. He didn’t see me at first because he was both jiggling the grizzling baby on his knee and trying to pretend interest in the toy his daughter was showing him. When he glanced up and saw me, his eyes widened, and then a huge smile crossed his face. It was the smile of both my sweetest dreams and my worst nightmares.
“Mary.” The pleasure in his voice was unmistakable. “I didn’t know you still lived in Invercargill. How have you been?”
“Just peachy,” I said, then realized that might sound a little sarcastic, so I cleared my throat and added my most sincere smile. “I’m now head secretary, and I really love my job.”
“Do you still live in town?”
I nodded, but he didn’t see the motion as the little boy grabbed his cheeks with two chubby hands and pulled his face toward him. “Um, yes. I’m sharing a house with some friends, saving up to put a deposit on my own house.”
Jim pulled the baby’s hands away from his face and kissed his palms. My heart gave a little flutter at the sight.
“Good on you. How about I buy you lunch after Simon’s date with a N-E-E-D-L-E?”
I found myself saying yes, even while my brain was screaming ‘don’t be an idiot.’ Then he turned that dazzling smile on me again, and I knew in that moment I wasn’t over him at all.
Tilly stretched in her bed, now empty because after a long lingering kiss, Noah had left to go to work. Bummer. The room seemed empty and unwelcoming without him. This was the kind of crazy stuff her brain conjured up from lack of sleep the night before. But what a night it’d been. She just couldn’t stop smiling, and reading that Aunt Mary had bumped into Jim again had given her hope. Maybe Mary’s story might have some sort of happily ever after.
Deciding cold cereal and milk wouldn’t cut it as a breakfast to refuel a woman who’d been thoroughly ravished the night before, Tilly climbed out of bed and got dressed. She wheeled Scotty the bike from the shed, refusing to look at the stack of packing boxes ready for her to figure out what she planned to do with them. That was a dilemma better suited to puzzle over after a Due South cooked breakfast.
She cycled down to the hotel, stopping once to say hello to Ben and West, who were walking their dogs. Ben had a scruffy little mutt called Sparky who danced around his legs, pawing at his jeans until he gave in and picked the animal up. West had his hands full with two rambunctious border collies straining against their leashes, and when one of them pulled his leash right out of West’s hand, he gave her an apologetic wave and took off after him.
“Glad you’re back,” Ben said. “Saw Noah before and he looks much happier. In fact, I’ve never seen him smile so much, even when he was issued a new walkie-talkie.”
Her cheeks flamed, but she warmed at the familiar teasing in his tone. It was silly to get such a warm buzz going, just because it appeared she was close to being accepted as a local. Silly, because how could she give up everything she’d worked so hard for to move to the end of the country for man? An absolutely incredible, once-in-a-lifetime kind of man who made her toes curl at the thought of him.
Sparky let out a sharp little bark, as if uttering the doggy version of busted. Hot breakfast, she told herself. Bacon, eggs, hash browns, grilled tomatoes, and maybe even some French toast since she’d burned a lot of calories this past weekend. Then she’d have a clearer head on her shoulders.
She rolled her eyes at Ben, then softened the sarcasm with a smile. “Men and their gadgets. See you later.” She speed cycled the rest of the way to Due South.
The restaurant was mostly empty, and inside it was cosy and welcoming since someone had lit a roaring fire in the restaurant’s fireplace. Wood hissed and crackled as Lani led her to an empty table. She’d only just given her order when Piper slid into the empty chair opposite.
“Mind if I join you? Michaela is on a playdate with Bree and Harley’s little boy, Tāne, so I’m gonna eat a meal that doesn’t involve bribery, processed sugary cereal, and a temper tantrum.”
How could Tilly say no? Besides, with her weekend afterglow of amazing sexy times, she was feeling pretty damn sociable and in need of a feminine high-five.
“Sure. I can’t promise not to have a temper tantrum if you steal any of Shaye’s home fries, though. They’re to die for.”
Piper chuckled and called Lani back to take her order.
They chatted about this and that until Lani returned with two cups of coffee. Piper tore open two sugar sachets and dumped the contents into her cup. “I’m such a hypocrite, I know.” She stirred her spoon through the milky coffee. “West says I’m sweet enough. But if it makes him happy to think he married a sweet woman, who am I to disillusion him? And speaking of happy…”
Piper lifted her dripping spoon from the coffee cup and pointed it in Tilly’s direction. “Both you and Noah look like the cats who got the cream.”
What was it with everyone suddenly becoming super observant? Did she and Noah usually walk around with scowls on their faces? Noah, maybe, yeah. But she didn’t feel the need to deny they had a thing. “We’re enjoying each other.”
“That’s obvious.” Piper smirked at her. “You make him happy. He makes you happy, too, by the look of it.” She tilted her head. “Though you didn’t look too happy with him at the quiz night.”
Tilly studied Piper, weighing up her gut reaction that Piper could be trusted against her fear that the other woman might have an agenda. If she did, Tilly had no idea what it could be. So she confided to Piper what she’d found out in Auckland—minus the bits Noah had told her in confidence.
“You talk to him about it?” Piper asked after Tilly had finished talking.
“I did.” Tilly sipped her coffee. The heat slid down her throat and melted a little ball of ice her stomach had conjured up remembering everything she’d learned. “He went through a lot.”
Piper’s mouth twisted and she stirred her coffee some more. “Even after all the death I’ve seen as a police diver, I can’t imagine how hard it would be to take another person’s life. What those guys have to deal with is an incredible type of pressure no one, not even other cops, truly understand.”
“Our society has become numb to violence,” Tilly said. “I think we expect the men and women who work in public service to be immune to dealing with it day after day. We want them to harden the hell up, sweep it under a rug, and never talk about it, but few of us have walked a mile in their shoes. I certainly wouldn’t want to have the responsibility of making that kind of life-changing decision in a split second.”
Raising her coffee cup, Piper toasted her with it. “Preach.” She took a long sip and set her cup down again. “It means something that he told you about his past, you do realize that, right?”
“I’m not sure he would’ve said anything if I hadn’t found out through other means, and he was under no obligation to divulge something so personal.”
“Because the two of you are just enjoying each other?” Piper asked dryly.
“Yeah.” But she smiled because they both knew it was more than that. What exactly it was, Tilly remained bemused about it. Their connection felt more than just enjoyment when they’d made love last night. The way he touched her, the way he looked at her, gave her goose bumps.
Lani arrived with their meals. While she set them down and chatted to Piper, Tilly’s appetite waned as the pit of ice in her stomach returned. She unwrapped the serviette from around her flatware.
“Noah’s family are pressuring him to move back to Wellington,” she said.
Piper looked up from her plate, where she was already slicing into a sausage link. “Never happen,” she said. “He knows his place is here with us. We need him.”
I need him, too. The words popped into her head and once they had sprung to life there, she couldn’t unsee them. Couldn’t deny them.
Piper must’ve seen some of this thought process on her face as she frowned and set down her knife. “There could be some exceptions. Like if a relationship was serious enough, for example. Love trumps location.”
“We’re not talking about love.” At least, Noah wasn’t talking about love. “Noah doesn’t really share his feelings at all.”
“Hello?” Piper chuckled. “You are aware he’s a guy? An alpha guy, which means they’re prone to verbal constipation when it comes to fessing up feelings.”
Wasn’t that the truth? Tilly grimaced and poked her fork into the cinnamon-coated French toast. “Personal experience speaking?”
“Yup.” Piper laid her hand over Tilly’s. “I get it, you know. Noah’s brother is a bit of a blabbermouth, and he told me about your reaction at Pete’s place.”
“I was terrified,” she admitted. “Actually, I didn’t have time to be terrified because it happened so fast. It was only afterward I realized it could’ve been much worse than a black eye. And then I was terrified.”
Piper squeezed her fingers. “That’s completely normal for a woman who’s fallen for a sexy stud of a cop.”
“Oh, shut up.” Tilly laughed, pulling her hand out from beneath Piper’s.
“Seriously, though, it’s not easy having a relationship with someone who regularly puts their life in jeopardy. But there isn’t much Noah can’t handle when it comes to his job, I imagine.”
“Unfortunately, I have a very vivid imagination.”
Piper pursed her lips and nodded, as if seriously considering Tilly’s statement. “Perfect love drives out fear,” she said. “Maybe not all fear because we’re only human, but it can keep you from going insane with worry.”
“Huh. How did you get so wise?”
“Buy me another coffee after breakfast and I’ll tell you how West and I got together.”
Tilly hoped that her hands weren’t shaking as she picked up her knife and fork. “It’s a deal. I love a good romantic story.”
As Piper turned away to signal Lani, Tilly contemplated her breakfast. The difference between a love story and a romance, so many readers knew, was that only in a romance were you guaranteed a happily ever after. A love story, on the other hand, often ended in a Nicholas Sparks tragedy.
So her and Noah? She nibbled on a corner of her toast, which tasted like cinnamon- and sugar-covered cardboard. That was yet to be decided.
Tilly closed the lid of the last cardboard box and taped it shut. She carried it to the corner of the room and set it down with the other boxes.
One week left in Oban and she couldn’t put decision time off much longer. Needing to do something physical to keep her mind busy and away from her impending departure, she’d stomped downstairs to deal with the guest rooms. She left the furniture where it was, but packed up all her aunt’s specially chosen sea-themed decorations. Her stomach grew heavier and heavier with each shark-printed throw pillow and sea-lion-shaped toothbrush holder she packed.
Finally, she’d tackled the orca room. She’d already stripped the bed linen after Seth moved out. She’d come back from Auckland to find the room key slipped under her back door and twice as much money as they’d agreed on deposited into her bank account. She started at the nightstand, unplugging the old-fashioned clock radio and the hideously gorgeous hand-painted black and white orca lamp. Next, she’d opened the nightstand drawer and spotted a plain white envelope with her name written on it. She’d pulled out a single piece of paper and opened it.
Thank you for taking me in. You’re much like your aunty, who’d often take me and my brother under her wing when we needed a place to stay as kids. Unlike many other adults in our world back then, she was kind without pressuring us with questions we had no idea how to answer. Southern Seas was our sanctuary, and I hope it will be yours, too, if that’s what you choose.
Seth Reynolds.
Her heart had given a little squeeze, her eyes prickling with tears. Suddenly she desperately needed to know a little more of her aunt’s story. She left everything as it was in the orca room, locked the door behind her, and went upstairs.
From Mary Duncan’s secret journal:
December 24th, 1972
Tomorrow will be my first Christmas on Stewart Island. And not just on Stewart Island, but in my own home. My parents and friends think I’m crazy, and I concede they may have a point. Who in their right mind would leave their stable life, move to a tiny island to run a bed and breakfast, on the chance of rekindling a lost love? So call me crazy if you must, but I think love—this amazing, all-consuming, once-in-a-lifetime love—is worth the risk.
Jim and I are taking things slowly, getting to know each other all over again. There are his children to consider, and his family, and Maata’s family. So we continue to live separately, and steal what moments we can together, until we can figure out how to make this work.
But know this, dear journal: I am happy, and I’m right where I want to be.
Tilly flipped over the page, her gaze sweeping through the text which seemed to be about the funny antics of Jim’s children. She flipped over the last few pages in the book, skim reading about a picnic Mary and Jim had gone on with the kids, but the journal entry finished halfway down the last page. Huh. Maybe there was another journal somewhere she hadn’t yet discovered. A justifiable reason to go through the dozen boxes of books she’d cleared off her aunt’s bookshelves.
The doorbell buzzed. Tilly’s heart rate shot into the stratosphere. Noah? She lurched out of the living room and into the hallway. But it wasn’t a big, buff outline she saw through the front door’s glass. A smaller, feminine shape raised its hand to ring the bell again.
She opened the door to a hawk-eyed woman with a sweep of perfectly coiffed hair and a business suit that now looked as out of place in Tilly’s world as a clown suit in a business meeting.
“Oh, good afternoon. You must be Matilda Montgomery, Mary Duncan’s great-niece?”
Tilly didn’t make any motion in the affirmative, but the woman must’ve assumed that no answer was affirmation enough.
“I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by on the off chance you were home.” This was followed by an I’m trying to gain a rapport with you smile. It was a well-practiced smile.
“In the neighborhood?” Tilly asked. “You’re not a local.”
“Goodness, no. I’m from Invercargill—Christchurch originally. I moved after the earthquake in 2011. My house was red-zoned.”
Tilly nodded sympathetically, but snuck a glance at the woman’s feet that had edged closer to her doorstep. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”
The practiced smile appeared again. “My apologies, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Miranda Charles from Charles and Young Real Estate. We’re interested in exclusively listing this property for you when you decide to sell.”
Tilly blinked at Miranda, butterflies exploding in her stomach. She was overdue to make a decision on her inheritance, but this was an in your face, make up your mind right now confrontation.
“When I decide to sell? You mean if I decide to sell.”
V-shaped wrinkles appeared on Miranda’s ironed-flat forehead. “Surely you don’t intend taking up residence here? Aren’t you from up north?”
“Yes. Auckland.”
“It’s currently a seller’s market. I guarantee I’ll get you an amazing price. Property with potential income is a great selling point in a tiny place like Oban.” Miranda held up a finger then unzipped her briefcase. Reaching in, she extracted a silver business card holder and plucked out a card, which she shoved at Tilly.
Tilly considered refusing it, but she didn’t want to engage with this woman any more than she had to. “Thanks. I’ll think about it and be in touch.”
And in a move that would horrify her mother, she shut the door in Miranda Charles’s face.
Tilly wandered down the hallway and into the kitchen, her favorite room in the house. She set the business card down carefully on the counter by her aunt’s sea-themed coffee and tea china canisters, and stared out the window.
One of her nemeses, a fat, feathery kākā, strutted along the back porch railing like he owned the place. Maybe he should. He belonged there, among the island’s lush green bush and the pristine beaches. The big question was, did she?
And the bigger question: Did she belong with Noah, too?