You should never have come back. Should’ve dealt with selling the house from afar.
‘Like how? I couldn’t do that to Dad. Or me.’ Now he’d spoken aloud. Idiot.
A hand touched his arm, fingers pressed firmly. ‘You haven’t been back since, have you?’
He turned, and instantly regretted it as Sasha’s hand fell away. ‘Not once.’ And up until you walked in here I was handling it.
Her head dipped in acknowledgement. ‘Too hard.’ Then she moved away, taking her warmth, her scent, across the room. ‘Remember the good things, okay?’
‘Sure,’ he croaked. But that meant remembering the summer of Sasha Wilson. The summer of promise that had turned to dust. Because he’d done the right thing and stood up for his mother and sisters. Elected to support them and walk away from those heady plans of university with Sash.
‘Maybe I should go.’ She sounded like she was warring with that idea. Sadness from her eyes ripped him.
What was bothering her so deeply? Not Dad’s death, surely? Most likely the consequences. He raised a smile for her because he suddenly did not want to watch her walk out his door. Not yet. ‘I’m not eating all this on my own.’ He didn’t want the quiet of a house empty except for himself and those memories he couldn’t face. ‘Besides, I haven’t told you my plans for tidying up the house over the next month.’
‘Guess I’m staying.’ Her hand did that maternal thing on her baby belly, rubbing tenderly, her eyes again alight with love and amazement.
His stomach curled in on itself as raw envy crawled up his throat. He wanted that baby to be his. So badly. It was a hunger he hadn’t known he had. Until he’d felt that bump when he’d hauled Sasha into his arms for a friendly hug last night. That’s when this crazy, mixed-up idea had begun, taking a firmer hold over the day. He wanted to be a dad to Sasha’s child. Except the kid already had one. Somewhere.
Her scent warned him moments before her elbow nudged him out of the way. ‘The bacon’s beyond crisp.’ She lifted the pan, set it on a board to take the heat. ‘What’s next?’ Her eyebrows rose and her mouth lifted on one side.
‘Add garlic while I grate Parmesan.’
‘Now we’re cooking.’ She gave him a wink.
‘Thanks.’ She’d brought him out of his funk with a jab from her elbow and a wink. No one did that for him these days.
The savoury smell of crushed garlic cooking tickled his senses as he broke eggs into a bowl. Adding the cream, he whisked the mixture. And relaxed into the simple pleasure of preparing a meal to share with a—friend.
‘This is so good,’ Sasha murmured around a mouthful a short while later. ‘Where did you learn to cook Italian?’
‘As compared to charcoaled sausages on the barbie?’ Grady scooped up the last mouthful of sauce from his bowl. ‘When I was at med school I started watching cooking shows on TV whenever I needed a break from studying. Something that required no thought from me but was entertaining. After a few weeks I found I’d picked up some clues and began incorporating them in the basic meals I prepared for myself and my flatmates.’
‘So you’ve become a foodie?’ She grinned as surprise lightened the green in her eyes to emerald.
‘A very amateurish one.’ He tried not to stare at her. Hard to do when she looked so radiant after a day of appearing drawn and exhausted. Had he made her feel better? If he’d turned her day around with a simple meal then he was happy.
She told him, ‘I’ve been to Italy twice for the skiing. Tina—she’s my friend who got married at the weekend—and I worked in Dubai for two years. We’re both ski nuts and Italy in winter was a dream come true, especially in the lake district.’
‘Also closer to Dubai than New Zealand.’
‘Definitely. Those long-haul flights are hideous. I don’t know how Dad does it all the time.’
‘He’s doing the job he loves.’ Grady pushed back his chair. ‘Want a coffee?’
‘Tea? Coffee at this end of the day tends to wind Flipper up and keep me awake.’
‘No tea, sorry.’ But it was now at the top of tomorrow’s shopping list. ‘The next best thing I’ve got is juice.’
She shook her head, swirling her hair around her face. ‘Hot water’s fine.’ And when he winced, she added, ‘Truly. I often drink that at night.’
Her wry smile crunched his heart. ‘Who’d have thought? You drinking water at night and me cooking pasta. Have we grown up, or what?’
Sasha stretched her legs out under the table and arched her back, rubbing her lower back with her fingers. Baby protruded further than he’d seen so far. ‘Did I mention I’ve quit skiing for now?’ She grinned cheekily and sat up straight again. ‘Can you imagine me tearing down the slopes, with Flipper leading the way? I’d end up face first in the snow. So not a good look.’
He should’ve laughed at the image but he couldn’t. Sasha wouldn’t have fallen on her face, baby or no baby under her ski suit. She’d always been nimble and surefooted, whether she was dancing, water-skiing, or climbing hills.
What had led him back to this place at the same time as Sasha had come home? She must’ve been home for visits often over the intervening years. But it sounded as though she’d returned for good this time. Had he somehow known he’d find her here? Was there a thread of emotion connecting them? ‘How long have you been back in the bay?’
Her smile faded, and she straightened up. ‘Nearly three months.’
Grady plugged the kettle in. Got out a mug, spooned in instant coffee and sugar. Filled another mug with boiling water. And once again his tongue got the better of him. ‘That when you found out you were pregnant?’
‘No. That’s when I found out Mum had MS.’
*
Sasha winced as that teaspoon Grady had been gripping clanged in the bottom of the sink. He whipped around to look directly at her, impaling her with his unwavering look. For the second time in twenty-four hours shock stunned him; his face still and his eyes wide. ‘Muscular sclerosis? Bloody hell.’
Sasha could understand his shock. It gripped her, too. She’d had no intention of telling him anything about Mum’s illness. She hadn’t got used to the idea yet. ‘Mum and Dad need me here now.’ Her breathing was shaky. ‘Like your mum and sisters needed you.’
They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Then he moved, lifted her from the chair as though she weighed nothing, tucked her against his chest and dropped his chin on top of her head.
She wanted this. Had needed it since the day greaseball had told her where to go with their baby. That she’d managed to cope with. But the night Dad had phoned to tell her about Mum she’d believed she must’ve been a very, very bad person for so much to go wrong. Had she been too selfish in her pursuit of adventure? But her parents had always encouraged her and Jackson to follow their dreams. Should she have stayed in Takaka when she finished school and worked on the orchard? Done some of the hard, heavy work? Would that have saved Mum from getting this horrible disease?
Knowing her self-blame was ridiculous didn’t mean she could drop it and feel free of everything. This year seemed to be about life catching up, payback for all the fun and antics she’d previously got involved in.
Above her head Grady asked, ‘Is Virginia’s health the reason Ian’s giving up flying internationally?’
‘He tells me it is.’
Grady leaned back, pushing his hips against Flipper’s hideout as he did. ‘You’re not sure.’
She’d forgotten how in sync they’d been. How they’d read each other’s minds as quickly as thoughts had popped in there. She slipped out of those wonderfully safe arms and sat back down. She might be spilling her guts but she’d do it standing—sitting—tall. ‘I’m no doubt overreacting. But Dad is tired all the time and he’s lost that joie de vivre that was his trademark.’ What if Dad’s ill, too?
She’d added to his woes. No father liked to have his daughter turning up on the doorstep pregnant by a man she refused to name or
even acknowledge.
After placing the mugs on the table, Grady lifted a chair and spun it round to straddle it. With his arms folded across the top he dropped his chin on them and focused his caring eyes on her. ‘Stands to reason he’s not sleeping too well. He’ll be worried sick about Virginia. I’m only surprised he didn’t stop work immediately they found out.’
‘Mum wouldn’t have a bar of it. Said that she was still capable of running the orchard and looking out for herself. Told Dad if he gave up work it would be like giving in to the MS and undermining her determination to remain as independent as possible for as long as possible.’
‘And that’s why you’re here?’
‘Flipper is the perfect excuse.’ Though hauling those cases of lemons was getting tougher by the week. Mainly because it worried her she might do some internal damage. She’d become incredibly cautious. ‘I suspect Mum sees through me, but I’m giving her the opportunity to let go of things in her own time and fashion. Dad’s pleased I’m hanging around. It makes things easier on him to follow Mum’s wishes.’ Mum and Dad were sorting out a difficult situation by give and take on both sides. Like she and Grady should’ve done.