The Sunshine Potluck Society, page 11
He boiled the kettle and got out a china teapot with little flowers on it along with two matching cups and saucers. He spooned tea leaves into the pot. Then he filled it with boiling water. He carried the pot to the kitchen table. Joanna carried the empty cups.
They sat across from one another. Joanna realised it was the first time she’d sat down all afternoon, and the relief of it showed up in a sigh.
“Oh, it feels good to get off my feet.”
“I’m going to eat one of these delicious-looking parcels,” Chris said, reaching for a samosa. “And if I need a drink to cut the spice, I’ve got one now.” His eyes twinkled.
“Let me know what you think. Don’t be shy. I need the truth—it’s for the book.”
He took a bite. She watched his expression as he ate. Finally, he spoke. “Well, that was delicious. I’ll try this other one now.”
In the end, he tried all three of the flavours she’d brought with her and chose the same one she and Emily had picked, vegetarian with peas. She had her answer.
As he cleaned up after their tea, she wandered through the living area looking at the photographs on the wall. There were so many images—family, friends, travel. He’d lived a full life.
He soon joined her.
“Who is this?” She pointed to a photograph of him with a woman, her back turned to the camera. He was smiling down at her, his dark hair blown in the wind.
“That’s my wife, Katie.”
“Oh, is it? I didn’t recognise her.” The woman was young, her hair pulled into a high bun with tendrils of curls loose around her neck.
“She was very young then. Me too. That was when we moved away and lived in Ballina for a while. I don’t know if you recall that. You were probably busy with babies. I know we were.”
“I was very busy. And I remember you being gone, but I couldn’t tell you the dates. Those were full days.”
“They were,” he agreed. “Our thirties blew by in a whirl, and the twenties weren’t much clearer.”
“How are the kids?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I see them every now and then. Not as much as I’d like. But they’re in the thick of the busy times, and they don’t live close by, so I get it. I’ve thought about moving down to Melbourne to be close to one of my boys. But I never quite get around to making a decision. I love it here. Sunshine is my home and has been for most of my life. My friends are here. It’s hard to choose to move away from that to a big city where no one will know who I am or care.”
“I know what you mean,” Joanna said. “I’ve thought about Melbourne myself. My daughter lives there. Her children are almost all grown now. Actually, one of them is currently living with me, as you know. Aaron is her eldest. But she moved away after he finished high school and has been down in Melbourne for several years now. It’s hard to keep track.”
“I want to be close to them, but at the same time, I’m not sure they’ll have the room to give me much attention anyway. And I’d have to forge a new life for myself in a strange city. I’m not sure I’m up for that.” He set his hands on his hips. “Besides, I have lovely neighbours,” he dipped his head in her direction, “who keep an eye on me, and friends I’ve known for decades. I can go to the shops for my newspaper, and the people there know me by name. I always run into someone down at the beach, or at the bowls club, and have a good old natter together. I’d miss that. Can you imagine trying to make your way around in Melbourne all alone? I know my son would be happy to have me there, but he’s got work, and kids, and a social life of his own.”
“That’s exactly how I feel,” Joanna agreed. “I couldn’t expect my daughter to spend every day with me. But here, I have Gwen and Debbie, Emily and Aaron. As well as you and a whole host of other people who have made sure I’ve been taken care of even when my issues have forced me to be cloistered in my house for much of the past decade.”
“I see you’re doing better there,” he said, beaming.
“Much better lately, thanks. I don’t know what’s done it, whether it’s the therapy or supportive friends, or maybe it’s that I’ve decided to push myself to do things I’m uncomfortable with. But whatever it is, it’s working.”
“Good on you,” he said. “You’re a wonderful woman, and more people need to have the opportunity to spend time with you. So if you can get out and bring happiness to others, then I’m all for it.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
On Tuesday, Debbie spent the morning at home. She’d had a busy time at work the previous day. Most of it involved putting out fires that were lit when she was gone the previous week. She wasn’t sure this part-time thing was going to work out as well as she’d hoped it would.
She sat on the couch with her reading glasses on, working her way through a spreadsheet of expenses for the month. Then, with a tick of approval, she sent it to her assistant and slouched back on the couch with a sigh. So much for a day off. But at least she’d had a chance to put together some dinner. She’d made a soup in the crockpot that morning and was hoping this time she and Caleb would have a chance to eat together.
She’d texted him; he’d confirmed he would be home. Tonight was the night. Nerves fluttered in the pit of her stomach. They’d had a nice time at church together on Sunday. They’d even shared a coffee that afternoon. She wanted to keep the momentum going. On the days she worked, she often got home so late that he’d already eaten and was downstairs working out in the gym. But now that she had a few days off per week, it was their chance to finally connect.
Once she’d finished with her admin work, she finalised the layout for the photographs to be included in The Sunshine Potluck Society Cookbook. She especially loved the photographs from their India-themed segment and had included a personal anecdote. The story was from the time she’d visited Chennai with a friend years earlier and had eaten at a restaurant on the coast where she’d discovered fish curry for the very first time. It’d fast become a favourite of hers. She’d also added several photos she’d taken while touring southern India. The colours and fabrics depicted in the photographs were truly breathtaking and complemented the vibrant colours of the spices and curries.
She reviewed the content in their shared account and then sent Joanna an email with her final contributions and blessings for what they’d already done. She was excited about how the book was coming together. It looked fantastic and truly inspired her to do more cooking. The beautiful recipes crafted and tweaked to perfection by her friends made her want to try.
The phone rang, and she answered it without looking at the screen.
“Hi, Debbie, it’s Phil. I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”
“Hi, Phil. It’s perfectly fine. How can I help you?”
He cleared his throat. “The Blue Rock account is in trouble. They’re talking about cancelling our contract.”
She straightened. “What? Why? What happened?”
“Sally was taking care of their latest case, a mediation due to a sexual harassment claim in the workplace. And apparently she’s been late to several meetings, she gave some bad advice that cost them a lot of money, and now she’s telling them to accept a deal that they’re not happy with. They want you to take the lead, or they’re walking.”
“Why didn’t I know about any of this?” Debbie asked, rubbing a hand over her face.
“We talked about it in the meeting last week, but you weren’t there.”
She grimaced. He liked to make little passive-aggressive digs at her over the new schedule, but she was committed to making it work. “Okay, fine. I’ll talk to Sally, and I’m happy to take lead on the case. I’ll set up a meeting with the client for later in the week.”
“Thanks, Deb. I could’ve taken care of it myself, but they asked for you specifically. So I thought…”
“You did the right thing. You can call me anytime. I’m always available.”
When she hung up the phone, she heard the front door slam shut. She finished touching up her makeup and hurried out to greet Caleb. He stood by the front door, briefcase slung onto the hall table as he looked over a pile of mail.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” she said, going to him and wrapping her arms around his torso.
He kissed the top of her head. “I’m still not used to you being here when I get home. It’s nice.”
“I made dinner,” she said. “Soup and fresh-baked bread rolls.”
“That sounds perfect. I’ll just wash up and join you.”
Debbie set up their meal on the small verandah at the back of their condo that looked out over a park. The sun hovered behind a copse of trees so that the light was dim. The air was cool. Birds chorused throughout the park. Children played and rode their bikes down the street below.
By the time she’d set the table and spooned soup into bowls to take outside, Caleb had changed. He wore a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. Even after all these years, he’d stayed in good shape. His hair was a steel grey now, rather than the dark brown it used to be. But his green eyes were just as piercing as they’d always been. He sat across from her as she poured him a glass of red wine.
“Thank you,” he said. “This is a treat.”
“I wanted us to spend some time together. We’ve both been busy for such a long time, we don’t often get a chance to reconnect.” There was so much more she wanted to say, but she was doing her best to avoid blame. She didn’t want him to think she blamed him for their situation. She carried the burden of their disconnect around with her daily. It was her fault as much as his. But she wanted to fix what was wrong between them. She wasn’t sure yet if he was on the same page.
He didn’t respond to her words. Instead, he took a bite of the soup. Then he buttered his bread roll. “It’s delicious. I was hoping for something light for dinner, since we had a business lunch at that restaurant downtown with the yum cha. I ate too much.” He laughed. “I’ve had a stomachache all afternoon.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I can get you something for it, if you like.”
He shook his head. “No, stay here. I’m sure I’ll be fine after eating your soup. How was your day?”
“Busier than I thought it would be. There’s a lot going on at the office, so even though I was at home, I was still dealing with issues. I’ve got to take over a case that Sally was working on because the client isn’t happy with how she’s done. I’d hoped she would step up and take on more responsibility with me pulling back, but it doesn’t seem as though she will.”
“Maybe you should talk to her.”
“I will tomorrow. Oh, and I finalised my portion of the recipe book. We’ve got until Friday to get the draft to our editor.”
“That’s great,” he said with a smile. “I never would’ve thought the words ‘I wrote a cookbook’ would come out of your mouth. But here we are.”
They laughed together.
“Wonders never cease,” she agreed. “Although in fairness, I didn’t write it. Most of it is Joanna’s work. But my photos look good, I think. And I contributed a couple of stories to go alongside the recipes.”
“I’m sure you’ve added a lot of value. I’m looking forward to reading it.”
They chatted about his day and what was going on with his work. Then about his family. One of his cousins had been diagnosed with throat cancer. Finally, there was a lull in the conversation, and she felt the thump of her heart as she opened her mouth to speak.
“I thought we might talk about our relationship.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Caleb’s spoon paused halfway to his mouth. “Okay.”
“I’m not placing blame on anyone, but I feel as though we’ve had a big distance between us for a long time, and I don’t know what to do about it. So, I thought it might be a good opportunity for us to hash it out. Get things out on the table.” She was nervous to hear what he had to say. Did he care about saving their marriage? Was it already over?
He set down his spoon and patted his mouth with the napkin in his lap. “I’ve been a bit absent. I’ll admit.”
“I have too,” she said. “We used to be close…”
“I know.” He looked away, then met her gaze. “I don’t know what to say.”
“How do you feel? About our marriage? About us?”
“I suppose I feel empty…sad.”
Her breath hitched in her throat. She hadn’t expected that. “Why? Can you tell me?”
His jaw clenched. “I think it all goes back to the…baby we lost.”
Her heart lurched. The miscarriage was something she tried not to think about often. It’d happened years ago. It was a part of their shared history, but not something she liked to dwell on. There was nothing that could be done about it. But even hearing the words come from his mouth made tears spring to her eyes. He’d never spoken about their loss before. He’d moved on as though nothing had happened. It’d hurt at the time, but she’d put it behind her.
“My miscarriage?”
“Yes,” he said. “I was devastated.” His eyes glistened with tears.
“I didn’t know that,” she said, holding back a sob. “You didn’t say…”
“I thought if I spoke about it, you’d feel even worse. So I tried to be strong for you.”
“You don’t have to do that. We should talk about these things.”
“And the more time passed, the sadder I felt. We didn’t get pregnant again. And then you said that it was probably for the best, that we weren’t meant to be parents. You laughed about it.” He blinked, and a tear ran down his cheek.
Debbie couldn’t bear to see him cry. She couldn’t recall him ever crying before in thirty years of marriage. Her throat constricted painfully. “I’m sorry. I was trying to be strong for you as well. I didn’t mean it to sound that way — I wanted a baby.”
“You did? Because I thought you were happy we didn’t have one. And I guess I’ve resented you ever since. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t set out to feel that way. It just happened. I tried to forgive you and move on. I worked hard at our relationship, at least for a while. But in recent years, I haven’t had it in me.”
Tears fell down her cheeks. She never imagined that there was so much pain beneath the surface of his indifference. It all made sense now.
She reached for his hand. He squeezed hers. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wanted that baby more than anything else in the world. I was sad too.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“I wish you’d said something.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he replied. “And then I got to the point where I thought it wouldn’t make any difference and there was no reason to bring it up.”
She moved to kneel in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest. She sobbed against his T-shirt.
“Do you think we can get past this?” she asked, looking up at him with tears blurring her vision.
He smiled. “Do you want to? I know I’ve been difficult…”
“I don’t want to lose you,” she said. “I love you more than anything.”
“I love you too, honey. I want to make it work.”
Debbie’s heart swelled. It was everything she’d wanted to hear from him for so long. They shared a pain that’d been so hard to bare neither one of them had faced or processed it the way they should’ve. Instead of turning against one another, they should’ve leaned on each other. But they couldn’t change the past. All they could do was try again. And she was grateful now they’d have that chance.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Gwen sat with her foot propped up on the ottoman in front of her favourite leather armchair. She had a cup of cappuccino perched next to her. She tapped on the keyboard of her laptop as she wrote up the VIP guest list for the Surf Club fundraiser. Then she took a sip of coffee.
Duncan had stayed home from work for the first time in as long as she could remember to help out around the house. It was a miracle. He’d actually heard what she said, even though he’d argued against her. At that moment, he was in the kitchen washing the dishes. She could hear the clink and clank of pans as he set them in the dishwasher. She resisted the urge to check that he was doing it right. That would only infuriate him. And it didn’t matter. He’d have to figure it out.
She still hadn’t addressed the topic of the perfume on his shirt. And the more she thought about it, the more she realised she had to do it. It was lingering in the back of her mind all the time, and until she brought it into the open, it would stay there, festering like an open wound.
Duncan strode into the living room, her frilly apron tied around his thick waist. He waved her rolling pin in the air. “Does this go in the dishwasher, love?”
She nodded. “That’s fine. Hey, Duncan, can I have a word?”
“Let me put this away. I’ll be right with you.”
He disappeared back into the kitchen, then re-emerged without the rolling pin or the apron. He sat on the ottoman beside her boot.
“What’s up, buttercup?”
She bit down on her lip. How should she broach this subject without sending him into one of his fits? He really did behave like a spoiled toddler at times. And she was rapidly becoming sick of it. Still, she’d prefer to avoid that situation if she could manage it.
“I was doing the laundry a few weeks ago, and I noticed that your shirt smelled like perfume. It wasn’t my perfume, but it was strong. And I thought I should ask you about it instead of imagining all kinds of nefarious scenarios in my head.” She gave a little laugh to soften her words but watched closely for his reaction.
Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “Perfume?”
“That’s right. On your work shirt. I found it in your gym bag.”
He shook his head. “That can’t be right. I don’t wear perfume.”
“I know that, darling. It was women’s perfume.”
His cheeks coloured. “You must’ve imagined it.”
“I didn’t…” She frowned.
