‘It’s been a big weekend for him,’ Ella said, ‘and that’s not me apologising for him.’
‘I know. Is a big weekend for a little life.’
Ella gave Erik one last hug, and he threw his bag into the back and clambered in the driver’s seat. With the window down, he hung his head outside. ‘You make sure this Jake is looking after you, my Ella.’
Ella didn’t have words to answer that. Nothing would get out through her tears and her love.
She kissed her fingertips and waved the kiss at Erik as he put F in gear and the Troopie lurched away.
* * *
‘Jake’s here, Mum,’ Sam called about an hour after Erik had gone.
Not long now and there’d be cracks appearing in that little boy voice. Till then, she’d cherish it and hang on to it as long as she could.
‘Can you let him in, mate? My hands are sticky.’ She was rolling meatballs to go with spaghetti for dinner.
‘Sure.’
From the kitchen, Ella heard Sam greet Jake and Jake’s deep rumble of response. The sound swelled through the house, getting closer, till the two of them emerged into her kitchen.
‘How are you holding up?’ Jake said, moving in and nuzzling close as Ella held her meatball hands out of the way.
She twisted her head to kiss him. ‘I’m good.’
He knew exactly how good she was. He’d been at her side all the way. Yesterday morning at the pool; yesterday afternoon with Marshall and Sam and a media pack of cameras; last night when it was just the four of them—him, Ella, Erik and Sam; and this morning again when the Network 8 cameras had filmed Marshall and Sam kicking a football (gently because of Sam’s arm) at the War Memorial park.
Now the cameras were gone.
Erik was gone.
Marshall was gone, too, although Ella knew that when it came to Marshall and Sam, there would be a next time.
Marshall had promised Sam that, on camera.
‘Hey, Sammy?’ Jake called to her boy, interrupting the cartoons Sam had returned to watching.
‘Yup?’
‘Got a minute to help me with something?’
‘Sure, Jake.’
Jake’s tone caught Ella’s attention and she narrowed her eyes. Too many people around her had been up to too many sneaky things lately.
Ella moved to the sink to wash her hands and get them dry. Treading across the carpet to the front door, Ella peered out.
Jake and Sam stood on the front path, carrying something bulky between them. What was that? It wasn’t heavy because Sam could share part of the burden with one good arm.
‘What do you two think you’re up to?’ Ella called out, hands on hips.
‘We’re busted, mate,’ Jake said, and the two of them put whatever they carried down. It was wider than tall, with a black cloth over it.
But Ella’s attention came off what they carried, because the man and boy now stood on her front path, all innocent smiles and trouble. Sam couldn’t stand still.
Jake whipped the black material off the thing.
It was a cage.
Ella stepped out into the porch so she could see.
Inside the cage was a cockatiel with yellow-orange spots behind bright black eyes, and a lovely white body and wings.
Through the widest grin she’d ever seen, Sam yelled, ‘Look, Mum. Jake bought us Perkins III.’
And Ella knew, for the rest of her life, she’d love this cockatiel-loving, infuriating man, so she told him—yelled it from the porch so that Jake, Sam, and any of the neighbours heard it too.
‘I love you, you cockatiel-loving, infuriating man.’
‘I know,’ Jake said.
‘Moon and back, Mum?’ Sam called.
‘Moon and back,’ Ella answered, as the sunrise smile she loved broke all over Jake’s face.
It was Sam who yelled, ‘Trampoline!’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Creating the town of Chalk Hill has been so much fun! It’s the first fictional town I’ve written and its inspiration is the Great Southern region of Western Australia. You’d love it there. It has wildflowers, bush walks, crops, sheep, mountains (the Porongurups and Stirling Ranges), whales not far away at Albany, and some of the tallest trees you’ll ever see at Walpole and Denmark. Plus Chalk Hill has the Honeychurch boys… three gorgeous brothers, Jake, Abel and Brix. Water Under The Bridge is Jake and Ella’s story. The idea for the Chalk Hill series came during a camping trip to Albany with my husband and two sons in spring of 2016 in our campervan. It rained for three nights solid, and those times when the kids needed to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night in the rain and we couldn’t find the right thongs for the right feet, and no-one could remember where we put the torch, and hubby and I were using rolled up towels and jumpers to sleep on because I’d forgotten to pack the pillows… I lay in my bed listening to the rain (let’s face it, there wasn’t a whole lot of sleeping going on) and thinking about an almost-Olympic swimmer making a change in her life. If she’d sworn-off swimming forever, where would she go? What would she do? Thanks for visiting me in my dreams, Ella! I loved writing your story.
As always, it takes a village to write a book, and I am so very grateful to my village and my tribe.
Juanita Kees, Kylie Kaden and Jennie Jones have been part of the ups and the downs, good days and bad. I owe you a lot ladies - thank you so much. This year it’s been my incredible good fortune to hook up with a small group of women who write. We call ourselves the Lollygaggers… and we try to fix our problems with that demon named Procrastination by setting weekly writing goals, and being an all-round awesome cheer squad. LollyGs, you girls rock. It feels like I created Chalk Hill with you. Thank you to the team at Harlequin Mira for your faith in my words. Particularly Rachael Donovan, Laurie Ormond and Julie Wicks. To Haylee Nash, my agent, here’s to this first book together, and I hope
