“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea.” Betsy laughed. “You’re still young, beautiful and strong. You should own that, honey. And don’t ever tell yourself otherwise. Life’s too short to be holding back affirmations for yourself. No one else’s encouragement really matters in the end — oh, don’t get me wrong. It’s nice to receive it. But ultimately, only the words you speak over yourself will set you free.”

  Bea stared out the window, pondering. Betsy was right. In the end, it was Bea’s inner voice she listened to for more hours of the day than she did anyone else’s. It was her voice that pushed her to take a leap of faith or held her back from the edge. It was her own words of encouragement to keep going that had gotten her through the divorce.

  They pulled up alongside the narrow, winding road and climbed out. They had to carry their fishing gear along an overgrown trail that was hard to see at times, but finally Betsy stopped and set her tackle box down beside a small cove.

  She sighed. “Here we are.”

  “It’s stunning,” Bea said. “And so quiet.”

  The water lapped at a golden beach, and they were surrounded with tall black and brown cliffs that muted the sounds of the outside world. A few birds twittered and the low waves hushed along the shoreline, but otherwise, it was silent in that small world. The water was darker blue along the cliffs.

  “It looks pretty deep there,” Bea said, pointing.

  Betsy nodded. “It gets deep fast. I’ve swum here many times in the summer months. And the sand drops away quickly, but it’s a great place for a dip. No riptide, and the waves are small. You can lie on an inflatable raft and go to sleep.”

  “You know this from experience?”

  “Let’s just say, when I tipped off the raft and into the water, I got the fright of my life.”

  Bea laughed.

  It only took a few minutes to set up their rods and to bait their hooks. And before long, the two of them stood side by side, knee-deep in the cool water, lines flung farther to sea.

  “I’ve brought your father here a few times,” Betsy announced suddenly, her voice soft.

  She wasn’t sure how to respond. She didn’t want to pry, but she was curious. “The two of you are friends?”

  “We’ve been friends for many years. Since before your mother died.”

  “You said you have something of hers?”

  “Oh, yes. That’s right.” Betsy foraged in the pocket of her dress. “Here you go. I brought it to give to you, but then forgot all about it. I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached these days.”

  She handed Bea a small music box. It was made of silver, but tarnished, and it fit into the palm of her hand. She opened it, and a tiny plastic ballerina stood en pointe and began to twirl as tinny music echoed across the water. Images of her mother holding it up to the light in her bedroom, her laughter contagious as she spun around in circles like the little ballerina.

  “Wow, I’d forgotten how beautiful it is. The carvings are so intricate.”

  “She carried that thing with her everywhere. I offered to give it to your dad once, but he said I should keep hold of it to give to you, since you’d always liked it. He didn’t want to misplace it while he was waiting.”

  Bea ignored the gentle jab about her absent years. “How did you get hold of it?”

  Betsy shrugged. “She dropped it. I was going to give it back to her the next time I saw her…”

  “But you didn’t see her again,” Bea suggested, her heart constricting.

  Betsy dipped her head in acknowledgement. “It was a difficult time for the entire island, but much worse for you and your family. If only she hadn’t…” She inhaled a slow breath.

  Bea could’ve finished the sentence for her. If only she hadn’t done what she did. She’d had the thought herself a million times. Along with the question, why had she done it? Dad had explained to her years earlier that her mother was unwell and didn’t see the world the same way the rest of the family did. But Bea had thought, in her young mind, that surely if they used the right words, they could convince her mother to see it all differently.

  “I wish I’d said something,” she whispered.

  Betsy glanced her way. “You couldn’t have changed the outcome. I’ve been alive long enough now to have learned a few things, and one of them is this—no one is able to change another person. We can encourage and love those around us, but we can’t change them.”

  Bea’s eyes watered. She tightened her grip on the fishing pole. “If I’d talked to her more, maybe she would’ve told me what was going on.”

  “And you wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it. You were a kid, don’t forget.”

  “But at least I might’ve understood.”

  Betsy shook her head. “You bear none of the fault. I could’ve done more.” Her jaw clenched, and long grey curls danced in front of her sunglasses. “I saw what was happening, but I did nothing.”

  “What?” Bea turned her head and stared at Betsy. The older woman’s profile was illuminated by brilliant, blinding sunshine.

  “Nothing. Just the rantings of an old woman who wishes things had turned out differently. Don’t mind me.”

  “What did you see?”

  “Who knows? Now, let’s hush or these fish will never bite.”

  There was clearly more than Betsy was willing to say, but Bea didn’t want to push. The older woman had brought her here for a reason — perhaps that reason was to reveal something from the past. Or maybe she simply wanted to build some kind of relationship with Bea due to her own connection to Bea’s father. It might be one of those things, both or none. But pushing her wouldn’t do any good. Bea could see that in the stubborn tilt of Betsy’s head. She’d wait patiently, and Betsy would open up.

  “Some things you understand better when you get a little older. I look back over my life, and there are things I’d have done differently if I understood the world the way I do now.” Betsy wound in her line and cast it out again. “But there’s no going back to fix anything. We have to live with our mistakes, move on and try not to make them again. It’s all we can do.”

  “You’re right about that,” Bea admitted, thinking about her marriage and all the red flags she’d ignored while she and Preston were dating.

  The time he’d yelled at her over a spilled glass of soda that’d ruined his shoes. Or the time he’d seen her walking home from the shops, both arms laden with shopping bags, and waved at her from across the street. They’d been engaged then, and he hadn’t even stopped polishing his car to cross the road. She shook her head at the memory.

  She should’ve known then he was selfish and wouldn’t be the husband she needed him to be. But she was smitten — he was handsome, charismatic, fun and seemed to adore her. It’d taken her years to get over the immediate pain of losing her mother and then the loss of her relationship with Aidan. Preston had been a knight in shining armour, leading her back to a life of lighthearted, youthful fun again. And she’d relished those years as everything she’d needed and wanted in that moment.

  “There were rumours going around the island back then, of course. Always were. But no one paid any mind to them. Your mother—she had things to say. People resented her saying what she did and wouldn’t believe her. She was called crazy, unhinged, obsessed. They even talked about her needing help. But that was before it all went sour, of course.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Bea’s brow furrowed. “People called her names?” Her heart ached. Poor Mum. She’d been through so much. Bea had no idea that people on the island had treated her that way. She hadn’t seen her mother in that light — to her, Mum had been a bright sun around which all the planets revolved. She was their centre, the place they all went when they needed a hug, a kiss on the cheek, someone to give them a word of encouragement.

  There’d been the deep sadness at times that sunk her light into a black well. She’d go to bed and not come out of her room for days on end. But when she did emerge, the darkness lifted and the light returned. Bea learned to appreciate those days — when all was right with the world. The entire family’s moods shifted and swayed around her mother’s highs and lows. Looking back, she could see how unhealthy it had been for them all, but at the time, it’d been normal to her. Wasn’t everyone’s mother like that? Now she knew better.

  They fished in silence for another half an hour. The water lapped peacefully around Bea’s legs. A light breeze picked up as the morning wore on. Then a bright splash of colour at the top of the cliffs caught Bea’s attention. She looked up, one hand over her eyes to cut the glare, and saw a teenaged girl carefully climbing down a crooked path.

  “Who is that?” Betsy glanced up even as a fish leapt from the water on the end of her line. “Oh, look out — I caught one. A nice-sized parrotfish. Looks like I’ll be eating well tonight.”

  While Betsy was preoccupied with reeling in her fish and taking the hook from its mouth, Bea watched the girl make her way down the side of the cliff. When she drew closer to the beach, she recognised her as Aidan’s daughter. Grace Allen wore ripped denim shorts and a loose aqua crop top that showed off her flat, tanned stomach. Long, golden hair partially obscured her face. She hadn’t seen Bea or Betsy yet. And when she disappeared behind a rocky outcropping, Bea didn’t see her again. She must’ve settled down behind the rocks somewhere.

  “I’ll be right back,” Bea said, pulling in her line and setting her rod in the sand.

  She trudged along the beach and then climbed the black rocks, cutting one toe on an exposed oyster shell. She grimaced with the pain. She’d have to apply antiseptic cream when she got back home or it could get infected. She used to run across rocks like these when she was a kid, never getting hurt, but she was out of practice.

  At the top of the rock, puffing lightly, she glanced over to find a small cavern-like space with sand at the bottom and an overhang. Jutting out from beneath the overhang was a pair of long brown legs and bare feet. It was Grace, and she’d clearly found a hideaway for herself — somewhere to go where no one would find her.

  With a smile, Bea backed down the rock and walked along the beach away from the girl. She wouldn’t be the one to spoil her secret or impinge on her quiet. She returned to Betsy, and they fished a while longer. They talked about her father, about Bradford and his girlfriend. Betsy seemed to know far more about Bea’s own family members than she did. They discussed life on the island and what it was like for Betsy to move there from the United States so many years ago.

  “Your accent is still fairly strong,” Bea said as they packed away their fishing gear. They’d each caught two fish and had them gutted in a small esky to take home with them for dinner.

  Betsy laughed. “Not nearly as strong as it was. I’m told it gets worse when I call home. But most of the time, I have a mixture. Half American, half Australian.”

  “Would you ever move back there?”

  “No, this is home now. I raised my child here. I buried my husband here. My friends and business are on the island. I have nowhere else to go.”

  Bea considered her words. She couldn’t imagine moving to the other side of the world and putting down roots. It must’ve been difficult at first, but Betsy had built a life for herself and seemed happy. Bea had done something similar when she moved to Sydney. She hadn’t known anyone there and it had taken a while to feel at home in the big, bustling city after her quiet, relaxed life on Coral Island. But now she was home again, she wondered how she’d ever managed it, how she’d ever believed herself to belong there. This was her home and she had no plans to leave again.

  Twelve

  Penny leaned her head towards her chest and squeezed the back of her neck with one hand. It ached from sitting at a desk all day staring at a screen. Paperwork was a necessary part of running the wildlife refuge, but it wasn’t one of her favourite tasks. She preferred being out with the animals. Still, she couldn’t do that unless she paid the bills, and that was getting more and more difficult.

  She’d done her best to juggle the minimal resources remaining in her bank account and hoped it was enough to get her through the next thirty days. After that, she’d have to come up with some other kind of plan. She still hadn’t heard back about the government grant she’d applied for, and the refuge was well and truly skint.

  With a yawn, she got to her feet and stretched her arms over her head. She stretched her neck to one side, then the other, and wandered out through the door to check on the animals in the outdoor enclosures. It was her favourite time of the day — afternoon, before the sun had begun its descent beyond the mainland. The animals needed to be fed, and many of the creatures who were nocturnal, sleeping through the daylight hours, began to stir and come out of their hiding places. She could talk to them, pat them, spend time watching them frolic and eat.

  She fed the kangaroos first, then cut up vegetables for the wombats. She was the only one on duty that afternoon, so she had to undertake the entire afternoon feeding schedule on her own. It wasn’t a large sanctuary, so it was manageable. But she was glad the reptiles had already been taken care of by the morning crew or she might not be able to get it all done.

  When she walked into the wombat enclosure with the tray of sliced vegetables, she noticed a shadow against the outer fence. The shadow followed her as she went, then stopped by the wombat burrow when she did. She pushed half of the vegetables into the feeding trough with one finger, then spun around to stare at the shadow against the fence. A small brown eye looked at her through a gap between palings. It blinked.

  “Hi,” Penny said.

  There was no response. She walked closer. The shadow backed away.

  “Do you like wombats? They’re one of my favourites. I love how they curl into a ball to go to sleep. Don’t you?”

  The shadow slowly drew close to the fence palings, and the brown eye reappeared. “Yes,” a small voice said.

  “Would you like to feed them?”

  Penny went to the front gate and found a small girl standing there who looked to be around eight years old.

  “I’m Penny.” She smiled.

  The girl chewed her lower lip. “I’m Sam.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sam. Are your parents okay with you coming into the sanctuary to feed the wombats? Maybe I should call them.”

  “They’re not home,” Sam walked through the gate.

  “Okay.” Penny shut the gate behind her after checking there was no one else around. Why was this girl standing outside the sanctuary by herself? The closest houses were only a few blocks away. Perhaps she’d wandered over alone. Or maybe someone was nearby. Either way, she hoped the girl knew a phone number to call although these days, few people memorised numbers since everything was on speed dial.

  The girl followed her to the wombat enclosure, and Penny helped her feed them the rest of the vegetables. Her hair was tangled, her clothing ratty and stained. She had bare feet, and her knees were covered in half-healed scabs.

  “Are you here with someone?”

  The girl shrugged. “Dad’s busy.”

  “Oh, I guess that makes sense. Do you live near here?”

  A nod.

  “Does your dad know where you are?”

  “He’s at work.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  Her brown eyes found Penny’s. She nodded again.

  “Well, come on, then. I’ve got some cake I was about to cut up for afternoon tea. It’s red velvet with cream cheese icing, my favourite. I’m starving myself. I hope you are too. Someone has to eat the cake. I’d hate for it to go to waste. And since my brother isn’t here, it will have to be the two of us.”

  After cake and chocolate milk, coffee for Penny, the little girl wandered back in the direction of home. Penny offered to drive her, but she said she’d rather walk and something about not being allowed to get into a car with strangers.

  Inside the refuge, she finished up for the night, locked everything, set the alarm and then left via the gate for the short walk to her beach house. She showered and put on a loose-fitting spaghetti-strap floral dress. As she towelled her hair, she wandered into the kitchen and studied the photographs strewn across the kitchen table.

  Evie had given her a copy of the old photographs Bea found in her cottage walls. The beach house was featured so prominently in many of the images that Evie thought she might like to enlarge some of them to hang on the wall. The house looked new and fresh. Now it was sagging and filled with memories.

  She poured herself a glass of water and sipped it while she flicked through the photographs. There was one in particular that showed the beach house in profile in a good light. That might do to hang on the wall in the entry. She loved that it was black and white. The retro look would work well with the décor in the place, since most of it was almost as old.

  There was a knock on the front door, and she hung her towel over one of the chairs and hurried to answer it. Rowan smiled at her as he leaned against the doorframe, towering over her.

  “Hi,” she said.

  He straightened. “Want to go for a swim?”

  “I just showered,” she said, touching her still-wet hair.

  “Oh.” He looked confused for a moment.

  “Come in. I’ll make a cup of tea.”

  Another smile. “Okay, sure.”

  He followed her to the kitchen, then sprawled across a chair in a way only confident men manage without falling to the ground. It made her want to slap him or laugh at him or kiss him very hard on the mouth. She wasn’t sure exactly which would come first, but it provoked her in a way that only he could manage. The fact that he bothered her so much hadn’t escaped her attention. In fact, she’d thought about it constantly ever since his return to the island. But she still couldn’t understand it.

  Bea was right about him. He wasn’t so bad — in fact, he could be downright thoughtful at times. And he’d been a good friend to her brother over the years. Rob had admitted as much many times. He was handsome and athletic, two things she very much appreciated in a man. And he did have perfect abs. But that grin — perhaps that was it. His grin was so provocative. And his eyes. He looked at her as though he might devour her at any moment, like she was a delicious piece of his favourite cake. And the smile said he wouldn’t feel one bit bad about it. That had to be the reason her temperature rose around him and her stomach did flips.

 

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