way. Never ever. I’ve raised my babies.’
It was a familiar denial he’d heard fall from her lips numerous times. Not that he could blame her. He just thought it was a shame to discount it for all time. ‘Fair enough.’
Vic shook her head as she tried to keep up with his ever-changing view of her. Today he could see her as a mother. Other days he saw her as his work partner, as a babysitter for his child, as Ryan and Josh’s sister, as Bob Dunleavy’s daughter. But mostly she was convinced he still saw her as the six-year-old he’d first met.
Why couldn’t he see her as an adult? Maybe a reminder that she was fully grown and ready to fly the nest would force him to see her in a different light. As a woman.
‘Hey, have I mentioned today that it’s only eighty-five more days?’
Lawson turned away from her and looked out of his window. ‘Once or twice,’ he said dryly.
Or maybe not.
CHAPTER FOUR
T HE ominous grey breakers rolled onto the beach, slapping against the sand with relentless savagery as the tide clawed its way steadily back. The wind howled around them as they lounged against one of the wooden crossbeams of the fence that formed the perimeter of the Wattle Beach car park.
It ripped strands of Vic’s hair from her ponytail and she flicked her head as another chunk was whipped across her face. She took a sip of her take-away coffee and hunched further into her overalls as the inclement weather goosed her bare forearms.
‘I’m going to miss the ocean.’ She raised her voice to be heard over the roar of wind and water.
Lawson warmed his hands on his disposable mug. ‘What? Even on days like today?’
Vic nodded. True, it was one of those miserable days, with scattered misty rain and a churning sea. But there was nothing like the unbridled power of the ocean to make you know you were alive. There was something elemental about it and Vic felt an utterly biological connection. ‘Especially on days like this.’
Lawson shook his head. It had been Victoria’s ideato grab their afternoon coffee and come down to Wattle. The beach was deserted. They were the only two fools stupid enough to brave the weather on this utterly miserable Saturday.
Personally he’d rather be at the station than freezing his butt off in the great outdoors. But with seventy more sleeps to go he’d noticed the closer her countdown got to zero the more she insisted on getting out and about for their breaks and he figured she was just trying to commit things to memory.
As much as she wanted out, he knew she was going to miss the island terribly. At the moment she was focused only on missing people. But despite what she thought, she’d always been a homebody hopelessly in love with the island lifestyle. From the poem she’d had published in the local paper when she’d been ten, entitled ‘My Island’, to her position on the Island Progress Committee.
Brindabella was in her blood and Lawson didn’t think for a moment it was going to be as easy as she thought to turn her back on it.
Lawson looked at his watch. ‘Seen enough now?’
Vic drained the dregs of her cappuccino, her fingers cold despite the warmth of the mug. ‘Yeah, yeah. Grouch, grouch. Where’s your sense of adventure?’
‘It died from hypothermia about ten minutes ago.’
Lawson was approaching the four-wheel drive when the first faint cry for help carried to them on the wind.
‘Did you hear that?’ Vic asked.
With his hand on the door handle Lawson turned towards the sound. It came again from the track to his right and he headed in that direction. The track wasn’t used any more but both of them knew it led to the distant headland.
A child appeared, running full pelt. She looked no older than Matilda and Lawson felt his stomach plummet.
‘Help. You have to…help.’ The wide-eyed child clutched her side as she fought for breath.
Lawson knelt beside her. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked.
‘It’s Bella. She fell…down a hole…in
It was a familiar denial he’d heard fall from her lips numerous times. Not that he could blame her. He just thought it was a shame to discount it for all time. ‘Fair enough.’
Vic shook her head as she tried to keep up with his ever-changing view of her. Today he could see her as a mother. Other days he saw her as his work partner, as a babysitter for his child, as Ryan and Josh’s sister, as Bob Dunleavy’s daughter. But mostly she was convinced he still saw her as the six-year-old he’d first met.
Why couldn’t he see her as an adult? Maybe a reminder that she was fully grown and ready to fly the nest would force him to see her in a different light. As a woman.
‘Hey, have I mentioned today that it’s only eighty-five more days?’
Lawson turned away from her and looked out of his window. ‘Once or twice,’ he said dryly.
Or maybe not.
CHAPTER FOUR
T HE ominous grey breakers rolled onto the beach, slapping against the sand with relentless savagery as the tide clawed its way steadily back. The wind howled around them as they lounged against one of the wooden crossbeams of the fence that formed the perimeter of the Wattle Beach car park.
It ripped strands of Vic’s hair from her ponytail and she flicked her head as another chunk was whipped across her face. She took a sip of her take-away coffee and hunched further into her overalls as the inclement weather goosed her bare forearms.
‘I’m going to miss the ocean.’ She raised her voice to be heard over the roar of wind and water.
Lawson warmed his hands on his disposable mug. ‘What? Even on days like today?’
Vic nodded. True, it was one of those miserable days, with scattered misty rain and a churning sea. But there was nothing like the unbridled power of the ocean to make you know you were alive. There was something elemental about it and Vic felt an utterly biological connection. ‘Especially on days like this.’
Lawson shook his head. It had been Victoria’s ideato grab their afternoon coffee and come down to Wattle. The beach was deserted. They were the only two fools stupid enough to brave the weather on this utterly miserable Saturday.
Personally he’d rather be at the station than freezing his butt off in the great outdoors. But with seventy more sleeps to go he’d noticed the closer her countdown got to zero the more she insisted on getting out and about for their breaks and he figured she was just trying to commit things to memory.
As much as she wanted out, he knew she was going to miss the island terribly. At the moment she was focused only on missing people. But despite what she thought, she’d always been a homebody hopelessly in love with the island lifestyle. From the poem she’d had published in the local paper when she’d been ten, entitled ‘My Island’, to her position on the Island Progress Committee.
Brindabella was in her blood and Lawson didn’t think for a moment it was going to be as easy as she thought to turn her back on it.
Lawson looked at his watch. ‘Seen enough now?’
Vic drained the dregs of her cappuccino, her fingers cold despite the warmth of the mug. ‘Yeah, yeah. Grouch, grouch. Where’s your sense of adventure?’
‘It died from hypothermia about ten minutes ago.’
Lawson was approaching the four-wheel drive when the first faint cry for help carried to them on the wind.
‘Did you hear that?’ Vic asked.
With his hand on the door handle Lawson turned towards the sound. It came again from the track to his right and he headed in that direction. The track wasn’t used any more but both of them knew it led to the distant headland.
A child appeared, running full pelt. She looked no older than Matilda and Lawson felt his stomach plummet.
‘Help. You have to…help.’ The wide-eyed child clutched her side as she fought for breath.
Lawson knelt beside her. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked.
‘It’s Bella. She fell…down a hole…in
Similar Books
