“Absolutely no effing way.”
We’re back at Wetherill Farm before I know it.
“Well, that was a very refreshing walk, thank you,” I say sweetly as I stand at the end of the drive, shielding my eyes because his damn light is directed right at my face again.
“You’re very welcome, Wren,” he replies in a low, teasing voice. “I’m so glad I ran into you.”
“Ha! You almost did. Next time.”
“Sadly, I’m unlikely to have the pleasure.”
“Don’t be such a pessimist. I’m here for a couple of weeks, remember?”
“And I’ll be gone by Sunday so I doubt we’ll meet again.”
I hear his words curling around a smile as he says them, but I have the strangest feeling that his lips have straightened now.
Silence falls around us. His light is still directed at my face and it suddenly strikes me as grossly unfair that he can see my expression and I can’t see his.
And then the light veers away and I blink into the darkness as I hear him turning his bike around.
I open my mouth and close it again as he sets off in the direction we came. After talking nonstop the whole way here, I’m confused as to why neither of us found the words to say goodbye.
4
Good morning!” Sheryl shouts from the kitchen.
I can’t raise the strength to reply at a volume that would reach her. The highly polished wood of the banister is sticking to my slightly sweaty palms as I gingerly make my way down the creaking steps, cringing at the assault on my ears. I make it to the bottom and have to take a moment, seriously wondering if I’m going to throw up.
“You girls have fun last night?” Sheryl asks with a knowing look from the kitchen.
I nod slowly and continue on my way toward her. “Where’s Dad?” My voice sounds croaky.
“He’s out in the orchard, picking peaches.”
“Already?”
“Storm’s coming. Thought he’d better get some of the ripe ones off the trees.”
“I’ll go say hi.”
“Want to take a tea or coffee with you?”
I shake my head as gently as possible.
“Well, take one for your dad.” She pulls out a chair for me at the table.
I sit down, my stomach churning, as she gets out a tray and fills it with a mug of steaming black coffee, a glass of water, a plate of cookies and crackers, plus a whole banana.
I thank her for what I can see is, in part, a hangover cure, and pick up the tray.
Last night feels surreal. There were moments when I actually felthappywithout Scott. And then there was that walk through the firefly fields and my run-in with Anders.
As I balance the tray on one hand and open the front door with the other, I wonder what on earth came over me, waltzing off through dark fields in the middle of the night. No wonder Anders fell off his motorbike at the sight of me: a white-faced woman dressed all in black, appearing from the corn with a full moon overhead. I snigger with amusement at the mental image as I step out onto the veranda.
The clear blue skies of yesterday have been invaded by towering, ominous-looking clouds, and as I make my way over to the orchards, other snippets from our encounter drift back to me. The memory of Anders’s laugh makes me feel as though someone has dropped an effervescent vitamin into my bloodstream. But then I remember that I’ve probably seen the last of him and my fizzy feelings are washed away by a wave of loneliness.
It’s a sensation I’m all too familiar with. Last night was a distraction, a welcome respite from missing Scott, but I’ll be thinking about him again now, I’m sure of it.
