So Jake’s question broadsided her. Am I getting back with Erik?
She snatched back her hand, put both palms to the edge of the table and gripped hard, levering herself away. ‘No. No I’m not. Why would you think that?’
‘He was here Friday night. I’m guessing he spent the weekend …’ Jake let the comment hang. ‘He’s Sam’s dad.’
That last line was what she needed. It got her heart drumming a new beat because that was the big lie, wasn’t it? Erik wasn’t Sam’s dad at all.
One day, maybe it would be easy for her to say that. He’s not Sam’s dad. But the perfectly natural follow-up questions made everything more difficult. So, who is Sam’s father then?
She could lie again. He died. He left us. He works away. We don’t see him … but she’d only be digging herself a bigger hole. Sam’s father hadn’t died, but many times Ella wished he had.
Jake’s hand lay on the table, fingers spread, knuckles gently flexed. So much easier to look at his hand than meet his eyes.
‘Lots of marriages have flat spots, Ella. People patch things up all the time. I mean, I’m not saying I know what went wrong for you and Erik, but there’s a lot of love there. I saw how he looked at you.’
A laugh that didn’t sound like hers floated from Ella’s lips. ‘Okay. You know how you asked me two minutes ago if we could talk about something else?’
‘Sure.’
‘I’m not getting back with Erik. Let’s talk about something else.’
‘How long have you guys been split up?’
‘Jake,’ her voice shook with it. She should get Sam and go. She was in so far over her head.
He put his hands up. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’
And even though she didn’t want to talk about Erik or swimming, and Jake wouldn’t talk about the Honeychurch house, Ella didn’t want to leave it like that.
Lines had been drawn and crossed.
She drew in a ragged breath and let it out, and at the same time she dug courage from her toes, lifted her eyes to meet Jake’s and tried to think of something to say that could make things right. Or close to right.
‘I bet no one ever asks Bob Begg these questions.’
Jake snorted, slapping the table, but not hard. ‘I bet Bob Begg never swam a hundred metres in his life.’
Ella found a smile and got an answering one from Jake.
She touched the offer papers. ‘I think I should go now. I need to speak with Henry Graham about this.’
They stood up at the same time and Jake said he’d go inside and call Sam for her.
Ella made her first steps to follow him. After five paces she remembered her manila file, so she had to come back. She took two more paces before she remembered her handbag and had to retrieve that too.
‘Don’t you dare laugh,’ she said to Jake, who stood just outside the sliding patio doors that led into the house, most definitely chuckling as he watched her wear a track through his pavers.
‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ he said. ‘Sam’s bike won’t fit in your car, Ella. What would you like me to do with it?’
‘Would it be too much trouble if you brought it into town tomorrow? You could drop it at my place, or my work, or at Irma’s house, or your work. I can get Sam to pick it up from there. Well, from anywhere you drop it.’
‘You’re being terribly polite,’ he said.
‘So are you.’
‘I’ll put it over your fence. What’s your address?’
‘25 Lavender Lane. Thank you. That’s very kind.’
‘My pleasure.’
Then he stuck his head in the sliding glass doors and hollered loud as you like and definitely not polite, ‘Sam! Get your butt out here. Your mum’s ready to go.’
* * *
‘You know we have to talk, don’t you, Sammy?’ Ella said, as Sam climbed into the passenger seat beside her and Ella started the car.
‘Yeah. Jake told you about the bike and the rock throwing.’
Dear God. What rock throwing? Jake never mentioned rock throwing. ‘I’d like you to tell me in your own words, okay?’
She reversed out of her spot near Jake’s Landcruiser and started down the long driveway back to the gravel road. Dusk was fully on them, the horizon glowing pale yellow as the sky turned from blue to black.
Sam shifted in his seat and, when he spoke, he talked at a point in his lap. ‘Well … the rocks were a mistake. I didn’t hurt anybody. I was just throwing them against the wall near the Post Office and Jake caught me. He said a kid could fall off his bike on them, or a lady might be pushing a pram down the street or something and could get hurt. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.’
‘When was this, Sammy?’
‘The day we found Perkins III, I mean Percy. When you said we couldn’t keep him.’
‘We couldn’t keep him because he’s not our bird, Sam, and we’d found the owner.’
He met her eyes. ‘I know. I didn’t think.’
‘Oh, Sam. I’m not sure you think at all anymore. Please don’t go throwing rocks on the main street.’ She’d never sell a house in Chalk Hill. Ever. Never ever. ‘Did anyone see you?’
‘Jake did. He made me clean the rocks up and put them in the bin.’
And he never said anything. Ella wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. He should have told her. She was Sam’s mother. She should know these things.
‘What about the bike today? You wouldn’t really have wrecked the bowling green, would you?’
He shrugged his shoulders. Stared out the window.
‘Sam?’ Ella said, tone firm.
Sam’s head came around. ‘I might of if Jake
