“I thought I heard voices,” her mother said as she sauntered into the room, snapped on the naked bulb overhead, all but blinding Sable in the process. “Rafe?”
Rafe nodded. “Mercy.”
Sable rubbed her eyes and squinted up at Rafe, then her mother, then Rafe again. Stunned to find both of them calm and smiling.
“You still here,” Mercy said.
“Looks that way,” he said.
“Unusual for you to stick around this long. Usually see the back of you before I even get the chance to say hello.”
At that Rafe smiled. “Off to Sydney tomorrow.”
“Right. Good. How’s your sister?” her mother asked.
“She’s doing all right,” said Rafe with a quick smile. Then, “Thank you. And your tomatoes?”
“Thriving. The marigolds really did keep the grasshoppers away.” Then a strained, “Thank you.”
Sable leant back against the saggy couch. “I feel like I’m in The Twilight Zone.”
With an exasperated sigh her mother said, “And why is that?”
“You. And him. Having a conversation. Like normal people.”
“As opposed to abnormal people?”
As opposed to you telling me to stay away from the boy next door if I had any hope of making something of my life. That he would be the end of all my hopes and dreams and I’d end up just like you.
“What are you doing on the floor?” her mother asked.
“The front door was locked.”
Another ever-patient sigh from her mother before, “Well, you were the one who was so insistent I get a lock. There’s never been any pleasing you. Give my regards to your sister, Rafe,” she said over her shoulder as she wafted from the room.
“Will do,” Rafe called back.
Sable scrubbed both hands over her face, before hauling herself to her feet. She winced at a pain in her hip. Another in the heel of her palm.
“You okay?”
Not even close. “Sure,” she said, wincing again as she shifted. “Peachy.”
After a moment he nodded. And offered up a smile. With crinkly eyes.
Funny that the brooding dissatisfaction had done it for her as a teen. But as a grown-up, this new-found assuredness of his had her feeling all wired and warm.
Rafe’s mouth moved, a slight twitch, and she realised she was staring.
She cleared her throat, glanced away. “How long till you’re back?”
“Not long,” he assured her.
“Okay. We can talk then, then. About...things.”
“Yeah,” he said, blinking a moment before drawing away, figuratively and literally, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he backed away from the window. “Goodnight, Sutton.”
“Goodnight, Rafe.”
And then he was gone. The window empty bar darkness and moonlight and a light breeze.
Still feeling a little wobbly after the whole kisses in the garage, drive through the moonlight, Rafe’s hands on her backside thing, Sable wasn’t sure she could cope with her mother. But she went in search anyway, finding Mercy in the kitchen, cleaning what looked like home-grown kale.
“Hungry?” Mercy said.
Sable grimaced as she pulled up a wonky kitchen stool, the bruise on her hip smarting. “Nope. I’m all good.”
“Mmm,” said Mercy. Then, “So, you and Rafe.”
“There is no me and Rafe. Not in the way you mean.” Okay, they were in discussions about him fathering her child but, apart from that, nothing to see here.
Mercy snorted. “You keep telling yourself that.”
Sable bristled. “I’ve struggled to catch you these last days, but now we’re both here, why don’t we catch up? Fill me in—what’s the haps in Radiance these days?”
Mercy just kept washing her kale. It would be the cleanest kale ever at this rate. But that was how she went about things. Loud then silent. Keeping Sable in a state of constant vigilance.
It reminded her so much of The Chef she wished she could go back in time, grab her young self by the scruff of the neck and say, Wake up to yourself!
At least now she could not be bothered to play her mother’s games any more. “You know what, I’m bushed. I might go to my room for a bit. Unless you want help with dinner?”
She made to push back the chair when Mercy said, “Sit down, kid. You know full well I’m happy to see you. But I also wish you’d stayed away.”
Sable laughed. It was either that or cry. Then she sank her head into her hands and rubbed her face hard. When she looked at her mother from between her fingers, Mercy was giving her a look.
“I just never wanted you to end up like me, falling for some small-town boy before you even had the chance to know who you were without him.”
“I know that. I do.” For Mercy had told her so every single day of her life. Her mother’s heart was in the right place, even if her parenting methods were less warm and fuzzy and more steamroller. “So, I went away. And I made mistakes anyway. Some really big ones, in fact. But that’s okay, because that’s how it goes. That’s life.”
“Mmm.”
“I need you to know, though. To really hear me on this. Rafe was never a mistake. He was kind to me. He looked out for me. He respected me, and wished the best for me. He liked me, just as I was. He was my very best friend.”
“And now?”
“Now he’s a good man I once knew.”
The kale lay limp on the cutting board, as Mercy looked off into the distance.
Sable’s heart kicked as it did those rare moments her mother didn’t school her features. When she was spent. Or late at night when she had nothing to keep her hands busy. Or when she opened the mail box to find it empty.
Then Mercy collected herself and shot Sable a look. “Don’t fool yourself. I’ll admit, Rafe isn’t one of the worst, but they are good at appearing good, till they get what they want.”
When she went back to the kale it tore between her fine fingers.
Sable imagined it would have taken a strong man to dare even approach Mercy Sutton, much less gain her trust. Meaning her mother must have fallen
